Some Other Us
by thatgleekychick
Summary: Slave!AU. In a world where orphaned minors are forced into slavery, Kurt and Blaine have been best friends, and completely inseparable, since the age of 9. But one day when they're both fifteen, their worlds are shattered—and now they may never see each other again. Warning: Minor character death
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** I'M BACK! Welcome to Some Other Us, which is very different for me, but I really hope you guys enjoy it! The title was inspired by _Some Other Me_ from the If/Then musical which this is sort of loosely based off of. I own nothing.

Huge thank you to my beta, Christine!

Warning: Minor character death.

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><p>The law was supposed to solve a problem and while it destroyed the lives of those effected, it was supposed to help the government find its footing again. It was also supposed to be temporary. But four decades later, the law was still in place: if a minor were to become an orphan—and no previous legal arrangements had been made—then the underage individuals were placed in a yearlong training program and then sold as slaves to the families who could afford them. But even after the economy recovered, the laws remained the same, the injustice continued. It seemed nothing could keep the government from changing its mind—not protests, not riots, not petitions. But there were people still fighting.<p>

Unfortunately, no one managed to win that fight before the year Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson turned fifteen.

The summer after Kurt turned nine, he and his father moved to a house on Beacon Street. His mother had passed away unexpectedly a few months before, and in an attempt at a fresh start, Burt Hummel moved himself, his son, and his business to a new town. Lima, Ohio was a small, quiet place, perfect for starting fresh and making new friends. Not that Kurt had that many before.

Burt and Kurt had barely begun unpacking when the doorbell rang and they were greeted on the other side by four smiling faces. Well, three smiling faces and scowl. The Andersons, who lived across the street, had stopped by to welcome the Hummels to the neighborhood. Mark and Heather Anderson introduced themselves, and then their two boys. Their oldest, Cooper—the one with the scowl—was be starting high school in the fall. He was wearing a black t-shirt with some band on it and looked thoroughly uninterested in being there. But it was Blaine, who was the same age as Kurt, who caught the youngest Hummel's attention. His dark hair was held perfectly in place by hair gel and he wore a blue sweater accented by a yellow bowtie that Kurt thought warmed the honey color of his eyes. Blaine smiled at Burt when his parents introduced him, then waved wildly at Kurt.

"You kids will be in the same grade," Burt said, his hand on his son's shoulder.

What Kurt's father really meant was "It'll be good for you to have a friend," but neither Kurt nor Blaine seemed to care.

"We can have a tea party once I find my set," Kurt said ignoring the adults and focusing his attention solely on Blaine.

Blaine smiled and nodded and three days later, after their first tea party, the Anderson and Hummel families were officially connected by the bond that had formed between their two youngest boys. Kurt and Blaine became best friends, inseparable, making it through junior high with just each other and starting high school knowing that the teasing and the bullies were no match for them as long as they had each other.

But two weeks before Blaine's birthday both of their worlds would shift.

It was early October and Mark, Heather, and Cooper decided to take a trip to see Heather's aunt in Pennsylvania. Blaine hadn't wanted to go and when Burt offered to let Blaine spend the weekend—as if he wasn't already planning to do so—the Anderson's agreed to let Blaine stay behind. On Sunday afternoon, as Blaine packed his things, knowing his parents would be home soon, while Kurt tried to finish his Math homework, the doorbell rang, but neither boy paid any attention, returning to their tasks.

But a little while later, Burt walked into Kurt's room with a somber expression that stopped Kurt in his tracks. He knew that face. It was the same face that his father had worn years before when he had told him that his mother was gone. That day had taken his world and flipped it on his head—and this day would be no different.

There had been an accident. The day before it had been raining pretty heavily and the boys thought nothing of it, using the dreary weather as an excuse to curl up on the couch and watch movies all day. But somewhere Mark Anderson had been driving when a semi slammed on its breaks, swerving as its tires tried to grasp the pavement beneath them. But it was too slick and Mark hadn't had time to move out of the way before the truck came crashing into the Anderson's Prius. Mark, Heather, and Cooper died shortly after arriving at the hospital.

Blaine was quiet as he tried to process Burt's words. He didn't scream or cry, but he let them cut into his skin, into his heart, into his everything. The world as he knew it five minutes ago was over. But it was about to get so much worse.

"Blaine, buddy," Burt said as he finished his story, the regret of what he'd just said and what he was about to say coating his words, making them rough as they came off his tongue, "God knows why, but your parents didn't make any arrangements for you."

Blaine's wide eyes shot up, the sadness of the loss of his family mixed in with the understanding of what Burt had just told him sunk into his bones.

"No! You can't let them take him!" Kurt shouted, the first to react, "That can't happen! Dad, you can't let that happen!"

"Trust me, Kurt, I've already tried. I already told the men at the door that I would take Blaine in, but because Mark and Heather didn't make legal arrangements for Blaine's guardianship, there isn't anything we can do right now."

The anger rolled over Kurt in waves. But he wasn't sure who he was really angry at. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson for not making the proper arrangements for Blaine? His father for not trying harder to convince the officers that Blaine could just stay with them? The world for being such a cruel place? The tears were warm as they rolled down his cheeks, but the fear began to run cold down Kurt's spine. They couldn't take Blaine away from him. He was Kurt's best friend, his everything.

"W-when do I go?" Blaine asked, his voice small and shaky and broken. His parents and brother were dead, he was going to be shipped away from the only people he had left, but he refused to break down, not now, but the thought of losing Kurt was too much and a single betraying tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek.

"The day after your birthday," Burt answered, "But you're staying here until then."

There wasn't anything Blaine could do but nod, so he did. The law was the law and no matter how hard they fought against it, it wasn't going to change anything.

Burt left the room a few minutes later, a hand on each of his boy's shoulders. Kurt looked over at his best friend, fresh tears pouring from his eyes. He didn't know what to do, what to say, how to comfort Blaine when his life had just fallen apart in a matter of minutes. So he did the only thing that made sense: he threw himself at Blaine, wrapping the other boy tightly in his arms. He didn't offer words of encouragement, or an empty promise that everything would be okay. Instead, he just held Blaine until Blaine's arms wrapped around him and his body began to shake as he finally let the weight of everything come down on him.

Kurt held tight to Blaine for minutes, hours, he wasn't sure exactly how long it took before the tears finally stopped and Blaine pulled back just enough to look Kurt in the eye. Blaine's eyes had always been the most expressive part of himself. If he was happy, his eyes were wide, shiny, and warm. If he was sad, they were darker, duller, but still beautiful. But when Kurt looked into them now, they were nothing less than heartbreaking. They were red from the crying and absolutely terrified. And so was Kurt. He didn't really know anyone who this had happened to before—there was a girl in his class in the sixth grade that lost her mom to cancer after her dad died before she was born and her mom didn't have time to make the proper arrangements. But Kurt hadn't known her, and she sure as hell wasn't his best friend.

There were reports on the news nearly every night and articles all over the internet debating about the safety and wellbeing of the kids who were put into any of the eight camps around the country. The child labor law and anti-slavery groups were the loudest of the protestors who were constantly telling anyone who would listen that the camps were unsanitary and the trainers were abusive and the thought of Blaine being subjected to that made Kurt's stomach twist and turn into knots. But he bit back the nausea because Blaine was still here and he needed him now more than ever.

"We've got to two weeks, right?" Blaine asked, his voice hoarse from crying.

"Blaine," Kurt said softly, trying to let Blaine know that he was there, all while not knowing what he could do. He'd never felt so helpless before—but he was determined to never leave Blaine's side. At least until he had no other choice.

Blaine took a deep breath, swallowed, and shook his head adamantly, "No. We can't change any of what is going to happen, so we just have to deal with it. Okay? We just have to make the best of the next two weeks."

Kurt didn't even try to stop the tears from falling again. It wasn't okay. It was never going to be okay. Not without Blaine. But there was no way in hell he was going to argue with Blaine over this, "Okay," he told him. Because what other choice did he have?

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><p>There was no point for Blaine to continue to go to school, and while Burt let Kurt stay home Monday, Tuesday left Blaine with an entire morning, and the house, to himself. He sat against the headboard of Kurt's bed and read through the information that had been dropped off the day before. Information about the law and what it now meant for Blaine. He wouldn't even know what camp he was being sent to until he got there, they wouldn't even tell Burt. They wouldn't be able to call or write. The pamphlets promised training in all the services he would be expected to perform once the year was up. He'd learn to cook, clean, do laundry, and sew; have training so that he could perform minor maintenance in areas like plumbing and electronics. He'd be the go-to guy for everything that whoever paid enough money to buy him needed. And he'd get nothing more than a room and a couple meals a day as compensation.<p>

Blaine got up out of bed and walked over to the window in Kurt's room, the one that faced his house—or what had been his house. He'd been given until the end of the week to get anything he wanted or needed out of there before the bank was going to sell it, but he hadn't yet brought himself to go over there. The house was his, it held his things, but it didn't really belong to him anymore. Without his parents, nothing belonged to him any longer. Not even himself. But there were some things he wanted to get; things he wanted to give to Kurt and to have the Hummels hold on to…just in case. Things that didn't belong in a stranger's hand.

Blaine kept watching the house, hoping that he'd see his mom at the front door, or his dad's car pull into the driveway after a long day of work, or Cooper making out with some girl behind the garage. But his imaginations never turned into reality, and the funeral was still scheduled for Thursday.

He'd tried hard not to think about it, but once the funeral was over, the countdown to his birthday would be inevitable. And then he would lose everything: his life, his freedom, his identity, and more importantly, he'd lose Kurt and Burt. He'd have nothing.

#break#

There wasn't much to celebrate on Blaine's birthday. Burt bought a cake, but the candles were never lit and the song was never sung. There were no balloons or streamers, and there certainly weren't any presents. Blaine could bring one bag with him to camp, and he wouldn't even leave there with it.

Later that night, the boys laid in Kurt's bed—something they hadn't done in years, mostly because they were getting too big to share. They laid face to face, their fingers intertwined between them. They were quiet for a long time, just watching the other in the moonlight; memorizing freckles and the shape of the other's nose because this was the last time they were going to see each other. They'd spent every day for the last seven years together and the future seemed infinite and filled with dreams: of Broadway, of New York City, of getting everything their hearts desired. But none of that would ever happen now, at least not for Blaine. And without Blaine, Kurt wasn't sure what he really wanted anymore.

"Where do you think I'll end up?" Blaine whispered.

"I don't know," Kurt answered, "But they'll be good to you. I know it."

"I'm going to miss you," Blaine's breath hitched and the tears gathered and then fell from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. Because the scariest part of all of this was not having Kurt.

"I miss you already," Kurt replied his voice heavy with sadness, tears running down his own face.

"Do you think we'll ever see each other again?"

Kurt sniffled and then nodded, "Yeah. I don't know how or when, but we will. I know it."

Blaine nodded silently, accepting his friend's hope, not matter how false it might be.

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><p>Blaine had been on the bus for a couple of hours, still unsure of where he was going. It was an ordinary school bus: yellow exterior, dirty black seats on the inside. There was a foul smell in the air, like the scent of hundreds of people, of bodies, being carted off to a future that didn't belong to them. If despair had a scent, Blaine thought that it might smell like this bus. There were two other people on the bus. Through the tears that hadn't stopped falling from his eyes for the last few hours, he saw them, but they didn't register. He didn't know if they were male or female, what the color of their skin or hair was. He didn't know, and he didn't care. The officer sat in the front of the bus, gun at his hip. Blaine thought that he introduced himself, but he couldn't remember his name. Again, he didn't care. He just climbed on the bus and put himself in a seat and watched as the life he'd known, his house, his family, Kurt, disappeared from view.<p>

No one spoke. The driver and the officer silent, the other passengers didn't even cough or sniffle. Like Blaine they were probably staring out the window, trying to hold on the memories of the lives they'd once known.

Saying goodbye to Kurt that afternoon might have been the hardest thing he'd even done. Harder than what he was about to do. He'd gotten little sleep, but he woke with the sun, wrapped in the safety of Kurt's arms. The boy he called his best friend, the boy he was in love with. Kurt hadn't left Blaine's side the entire morning, only giving him time to himself so that he could shower. But Kurt had been waiting in his bedroom when he'd come out. He'd been thankful for Kurt's constant presence. Because without it, he would have broken down. He wouldn't have found that last bit of something inside him that kept him standing upright. There was breakfast, but no one, not even Burt, ate.

After their attempt at breakfast, everyone sat in the living room and waited for someone to arrive to pick up Blaine. His bag was at the door, the last bit of possession that Blaine would ever have. There were no words, there was only quiet, as Kurt and Blaine sat next to each other on the couch, their fingers interlocked. They didn't look at each other, only the nothingness in front of them. Words would only bring tears and tears would only bring broken hearts and neither boy wanted to feel that until the last possible moment.

When the doorbell rang, Blaine's entire body tensed. His fingers gripped Kurt's as if he could somehow hold on so tight that they couldn't remove the connection and there would be no other choice but for Blaine to stay with Kurt, every day, forever. But despite Blaine's every wish, every plea to anyone who could hear him, he was forced to break his contact with Kurt and head towards the front door of the Hummel house. He hugged Burt and thanked him. Two words doing their best to say so many more. Thank you for being like a second father to me when my own was just across the street, thank you for being like a father to me these past couple of weeks, thank you for the things you don't think you need to be thanked for. He'd never seen Burt Hummel cry, never thought he ever would. But when he pulled away, Burt's eyes were filled to the brim and a single tear was sliding down his cheek.

He didn't know how to say goodbye to Kurt. He'd been thinking about it since the day he found out he'd been leaving, but even more the last day. How do you say goodbye to someone who means everything to you? How do you leave the one person that you can't live your life without? It's not easy and you don't do it on your own free will. Blaine looked at Kurt, his best friend's eyes red rimmed and filled with tears. The sight pummeled Blaine's heart. They'd always had the ability to have conversations, to say things, without actually using words. And now Blaine was grateful for it. Because he didn't have to figure out how to say goodbye to Kurt, he just gave him a look and then threw himself into Kurt's arms and held him and close as humanly possible. He took that moment to memorize the way Kurt felt against him, the way his arms wrapped around him, the way Blaine fit perfectly against him. This was how he'd remember Kurt for the rest of his life.

The officer cleared this throat and Kurt muttered something that Blaine didn't quite understand as they pulled away. He didn't have time to ask for clarification because it was time to go and the officer would no longer wait for him to say goodbye. And then with reluctant steps he followed the officer to the yellow school bus, the one with two other people, the one that smelled of despair.

Blaine thought about Kurt the entire ride. He thought about their past, every day until today that they'd been together. That was how he'd remember Kurt. He'd remember Kurt's passion for music and for clothes and the way he smiled when Blaine told a stupid joke. He'd remember all the nights they stayed up flipping through Vogue and telling each other secrets that they'd never tell another soul. But he didn't let him think about their future, because there wasn't one. Every single hope they'd had or plan they'd made was no longer within their reach. As the bus pulled in front of a large, grey building, there was no future for Blaine Anderson.

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><p>Kurt was only given one day to stay home from school before his father forced him back.<p>

"I know it sucks," Burt had said, "But you have to get back to your life."

That was easy for him to say. He didn't have to go back to school and face the student body of McKinley High. He didn't have to walk the halls and pass by Blaine's locker and fight back the urge to just curl up and cry each time he remembered that the locker was no longer Blaine's and that Blaine was never coming back.

Everyone at school knew. People he'd never met before were passing him in the hallway offering their condolences—like Blaine was dead. Though it kind of felt that way. But he pushed through the day with as much effort as he could muster—eating lunch alone and being forever grateful when the final bell rang. He'd made it, without Blaine. The only positive thing was the signup sheet he'd seen for auditions for the new show choir. He'd only wished Blaine was around to audition with him.

When Kurt got home, his dad's truck was parked in the driveway. His father usually wasn't home until it was closer to dinner but Kurt walked into the house and found his father sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes focused on a pile of papers.

"Hey, kid," Burt said looking up to greet Kurt, "Sit down. I want to talk to ya bout somethin'."

Curious, and a little scared, Kurt put his bag down on the couch and joined his father at the table.

"Dad, you're freaking me out."

"It's not-well, I don't know what it is," Burt said looking his son in the eye, "But I was thinking a lot today, about Blaine."

The sound of his best friend's name drew the tears that Kurt had fought back all day to his eyes; they pooled and then fell slowly while his father continued."

"I was thinking," Burt said, "That maybe when the time comes we could buy him."

Kurt's breath got caught in his throat, the tears stopped flowing almost immediately, "But dad, you _hate_ slavery."

"You're damn right I do. And I've never hated it more than when I watched that boy walk out the door. But I can't just sit around and do nothin', Kurt. He won't even really have to do anything. He'll just be living here."

"But the evaluators," Kurt warned.

"He'll have a list of chores, no different than you. But this way we will know where he is, we will know that he's safe."

"Can we-can we even afford to do this?" Kurt asked trying to remain realistic in fear that the optimism was nothing but a lie and his heart would be broken all over again when he and his father both realized that Blaine couldn't come home.

"We've got a year before he's sold," Burt told him, "We'll save until then, every penny we can. And when time comes we'll be there, ready. What do you say, kid?"

Kurt let the tears fall once again because for the first time in nearly two weeks there was a sliver of hope, a fraction of a chance that things would be alright. That he'd see Blaine again, that he'd have his best friend back. And all he had to do was wait a year and then Blaine's training would be over and he could come home.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> So, here we go! Thank you for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think. I will have Chapter 2 to you as soon as I can!


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Happy Sunday Everyone! Thank you so much to everyone for all the love for Chapter 1. I'm glad you're enjoying this!

I think I need to take a second to explain how this chapter, and some future chapters, are setup. There is an AU within this AU. It won't be in every chapter, and they vary in length, but sometimes you will see glimpses into the lives of the Andersons and the Hummels had the events of Chapter 1 not taken place. They will always be at the beginning and will be labeled with the header "Somewhere There's a World..."

Big thank you to my wonderful beta, Christine!

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><p><em>Somewhere There's a World…<em>

It wasn't anything extravagant. It wasn't anything the student at McKinley, or even his friends, would talk about for more than a couple of hours after they left. But Blaine's sixteenth birthday party was perfect.

The entire Glee club was gathered in the Andersons' basement. There was music playing; everyone singing along and laughing. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, and as Blaine looked around at all his friends, he was sure there was no other way he'd want to spend his day. Especially with Kurt standing next to him as they leaned against the back of the couch watching the rest of the room. There was no way anything couldn't be perfect with Kurt by his side.

"Are you even listening to me, Blaine?" Kurt asked with a slightly annoyed tone.

It was a tone Blaine had become rather fond of. He turned to look at his best friend and nodded, "Of course. Between you and Tina, I have no doubt that our costumes are going to be better than Vocal Adrenaline's."

"Exactly! And if we can somehow manage to get all thirteen of us to nail the choreography, there is no way we don't at least get second place at sectionals," Kurt said then turned his voice into a whisper and leaned in close to Blaine's ear, "But I really want to win."

Blaine let out a breathy laugh and smiled fondly at his best friend, the best person he'd ever met, "We will," he promised.

For a long moment a comfortable silence fell between the boys as they focused their attention back on the party, but that was how it always was when they were together, comfortable. It didn't matter if they were doing homework, watching TV, or arguing whether Katy Perry or Britney Spears wore the teal dress better at the Grammys, there was no other person in the entire world that made Blaine feel so at peace.

"Kurt," Blaine said turning his eyes back towards Kurt, "Can I talk to you about something?"

Kurt's eyes—his beautiful blue eyes that reminded Blaine of the summer they spent the weekend in Chicago along Lake Michigan—turned towards Blaine, "Yeah, of course."

Blaine took a deep breath. He'd been thinking about talking to Kurt, about telling him, for weeks. He'd even tried it a couple of times before but he could never get the words to come off his tongue. He hadn't exactly planned on telling him in his basement surrounded by all his friends with both of their parents upstairs, but the urge was overwhelming, the time felt right, and he wasn't sure when he was going to get an opportunity like this again.

"Kurt, I just wanted you to know that—"

"Blaine! It's time to give you your present!" Blaine's mother interrupted from the top of the stairs, and Blaine felt every word that he had building inside him slip away, "Why don't you and your friends meet me in the driveway."

Blaine eyed Kurt curiously, and the smirk on his best friend's face told Blaine that he was in on whatever was going on. Kurt grabbed his hand and was leading Blaine and the rest of their friends up the stairs, through the house and out the front door into the cool early autumn night.

The sun had just set and there was still some purple left in the sky, but Blaine couldn't ignore the moonlight that was reflecting off one of the cars in his driveway—a car, he realized, he did not recognize. A black Prius with a giant red bow on the windshield. His parents grinned widely at him from either side of the car, but it was Kurt who was still by his side, their fingers still intertwined that exclaimed, "Happy Birthday, Blaine!"

Later that night, after everyone had left and the house was now quiet, Blaine sat at the end of his bed and replayed the entire evening in his head. But amongst all the friends and the car, what stood out the most was the part where he almost told Kurt how he felt. The part where he'd almost risked everything. And maybe it was a good thing that his mom interrupted when she did; maybe it was the universe trying to tell him something. That it wasn't the right thing to do, or maybe just not the right time. But the feelings he had for Kurt, they _felt_ right. And he'd had them for so long, kept them a secret for so long, that he was sure that if he didn't tell them to someone soon, he'd explode.

A knock pulled Blaine away from what was likely to be an internal monologue that would keep him up all night. He looked up to see Kurt leaning against the door frame. He wondered how long he'd been watching him.

"You're still here," Blaine said.

"I came back to help your mom clean up, but she shooed me away," Kurt said, "and I haven't given you your birthday present yet."

"Kurt, I told you—"

"You told everyone else not to get you anything," Kurt said walking into the room and sitting next to Blaine on the bed, "But I'm your best friend, so the rules don't apply to me."

Blaine laughed, "Really now?"

"Besides," Kurt continued, "I saw it online and I was certain that if I didn't get it for you the world would implode so, happy birthday!"

From the spot next to him on the bed, Kurt revealed a tiny box wrapped in shiny red paper with a blue ribbon. Blaine took it carefully from Kurt's hand and slowly pulled the paper away to reveal a black box. Giving Kurt a curious glance, he opened the box to and gave an excited, "You've got to be kidding me!" when he saw the bowtie that was inside—the one that was a picture of Nicole Kidman, as Satine from Moulin Rouge.

"Kurt, this is amazing," Blaine said feeling the material between his fingers, "Thank you!"

"I almost bought one for myself, but I figured I could just borrow yours. So if it goes missing, you'll likely find it on my dresser," Kurt said, "Or around my neck."

"I'd say all you have to do is ask," Blaine said teasing, "But I know you won't."

"You're right," Kurt said, "Hey! Did you want to talk to me about something earlier?"

"Oh, yeah. I did—I do," Blaine said getting up and moving towards the window across from Kurt and turning to his best friend, his stomach in knots, and his bottom lip worrying between his teeth as he tried to figure out how to do this. He'd thought before that the moment had passed, but maybe it was the universe's way of telling him that a crowded room wasn't the right time to tell Kurt his most treasured secret, "I just don't know how."

"Blaine?" Kurt asked nervously, "Is everything alright?"

Blaine opened his mouth, once, twice, a third time as the look of tension grew on Kurt's face before he was finally able to find his voice, though much quieter than the feelings that were about to explode out of him.

"I love you."

Kurt's face relaxed a bit, "Oh. I love you, too."

"No, Kurt," Blaine said, slightly frustrated that the simple act of saying those words hadn't done their job, but as he felt the courage begin to fade, he needed for Kurt to understand, "I _love_ you. I'm _in love_ with you."

Kurt's eyes shot wide and Blaine was certain that he could feel everything begin to crumble around him. He could feel the last seven years of their lives beginning to lead up to this moment where Kurt walked away and never turned back. Blaine wrapped his arms around his middle hoping that he could keep himself together long enough for Kurt to retreat back across the street.

"Blaine," Kurt finally spoke, his voice a whisper, "You're my best friend."

"I know. And you're mine. And that's what makes this a thousand times harder to say because if you don't feel the same way, then I could have just ruined everything—which is so much worse than you not feeling the same way. I don't know how I'd get over that. But I can't keep the way I feel about you a secret anymore. I don't want to."

Kurt looked at Blaine for a moment, silently holding his gaze; then he fixed his eyes on his hands that were folded in his lap. Blaine thought about apologizing, about taking it all back, but there was no way back from this. And he really didn't want to go back. He'd been in love with Kurt Hummel for so long, going back meant not knowing Kurt, and that idea terrified him more than his overwhelming love had. After what felt like a life time Kurt finally looked back up, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he asked, "Why?"

Blaine resisted the urge to run to Kurt's side, to hold him until the tears went away, "Why what?"

_Why did you tell me? Why did you ruin everything? Why couldn't you have kept this to yourself?_ Blaine's imagination went wild in the few moments it took Kurt to answer.

"Why do you love me?"

Slightly relieved, Blaine smiled. This was easy, "Because you're the best person I've ever met in my entire life. You're sweet and compassionate; you're strong and determined. You're passion for life and for the people and things you love is inspiring. It moves me, Kurt. You move me. I never feel safer than when I'm with you because I know that you understand me, better than anyone else. And that you don't judge me despite my flaws. And if you don't feel the same way, that's okay. I just really don't want to lose—"

"Blaine?" Kurt interrupted wiping the tears from his cheeks just before fresh ones fell.

"Yeah?"

Kurt took a deep breath and the corners of his mouth turned up every so slowly, "I'm in love with you, too."

The air left Blaine's lungs in a rush and the tears began to form in his own eyes. He'd imagined this moment so many times that he wasn't even sure if it was real, "I—you are?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, taking a deep breath, like it was the first real breath he'd taken in a long time, "I have for a really long time. I just didn't know how to tell you."

"Kurt," Blaine said as a quiet plea that Kurt thankfully understood as he stood up and took the few steps that separated them until they were standing directly in front of each other.

"I just really don't want to screw this up," Kurt whispered.

Blaine reached down and grabbed Kurt's hand, linking their fingers together and bringing their joined hands up and pressed them against his chest, "We won't."

And then he kissed him. He kissed Kurt because he couldn't take it anymore. He'd been dreaming about what it would be like to kiss Kurt for so long and now that he knew that Kurt felt the same way, that he wanted the same things, he leaned in and pressed his lips against Kurt's because he knew that doing so wouldn't ruin everything. Instead they would be growing into something different, something stronger. Something Blaine was very excited about.

"Thank you for telling me," Kurt said as he pulled away and rested his forehead against Blaine's.

"Thank you for loving me back."

* * *

><p><em>364 Days Later…<em>

"Mr. Schuester just told me that you aren't going to be in Glee rehearsal today."

Kurt sighed as Rachel Berry appeared next to him at his locker while he was switching out his Geometry textbook for his History one. One more period of listening to Mr. Kelch ramble on about the American Revolution and then his dad would be picking him up and they would be on their way to Columbus. His stomach was in knots and he couldn't actually concentrate on anything that was happening during class, but his father insisted that he not miss the entire day of school. Kurt wasn't really in agreement, but he trudged through his morning classes if only to make the day go by quicker. But it had been crawling.

"I'm not."

"Kurt!" Rachel cried, "It's important that we rehearse as a team as much as possible before Sectionals."

Kurt sighed again, "Rachel, it's the third week of school and Sectionals aren't until November. I can miss one day of Mr. Schue's weekly lecture about how great things were when he was in Glee club."

"Are you going to at least tell me what is so important that you have to miss rehearsal?"

Kurt didn't owe Rachel, as co-captain of the Glee club, an explanation. He was as devoted to the club this year as he was last, but today was important. Maybe more important than any other day in his life. But maybe he did owe an explanation to Rachel, his friend. Besides, it wasn't like it was a secret.

"My dad and I are driving to Columbus. Today is Blaine's birthday."

It had taken a lot of digging and more phone calls and emails than Kurt thought he'd ever make or send in his life, but a few months ago Burt was finally able to figure out where Blaine was. And the lady on phone so kindly also let slip that he would be going up for auction on his birthday, at Columbus City Hall. They had no idea how much the bidding for Blaine would start at, but they'd been saving, and Kurt was pretty sure his father had taken out a loan just in case. Every penny found on the sidewalk went into a fund so that they could bring Blaine home. It was the only thing that got Kurt through the last year without his best friend. He just had to hope that it would be enough.

"Blaine?" Rachel questioned, "Oh, the boy whose parents died last year?"

Kurt hadn't exactly been very forthcoming about things with Blaine. Last year, everyone knew Kurt and Blaine were friends, but now—for everyone except himself—Blaine had been forgotten. Blaine hadn't been there when he joined the New Directions and made something that resembled a family—as dysfunctional as they were. His friends didn't know about Kurt and Blaine, they just knew about Kurt. But all the while Blaine was with Kurt in the back of his mind. He thought about what Blaine would have to say about his solos, and what solos Blaine would sing. It should be Blaine sitting next to him all the time in rehearsal, and it should have been Blaine he hugged after they'd won sectionals the year before, and Blaine he should have cried with when they'd lost regionals—and almost lost the club. Kurt was grateful that he'd found New Directions when he did, but having all of those experiences without Blaine at his side—without him to talk to about everything—made Kurt both sad and incredibly guilty. But there were only hours left before the auction and then Blaine could come home. And then Kurt could start making up, at least a small bit, for the last year that Blaine had been gone.

"Yes," Kurt answered simply.

Kurt could see the fountain of questions Rachel wanted to ask working their way through her brain. Thankfully, they hadn't managed to reach her tongue before the warning bell rang. Kurt sighed. Forty-seven more minutes. Forty-seven more minutes and he'd be on his way to Blaine.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Rachel," Kurt said closing his locker and walking away.

But if he had his way, he'd stay home tomorrow. He'd stay home with Blaine.

* * *

><p>There weren't many words spoken on the drive to Columbus. The radio played softly between them, but there wasn't anything to say, at least not out loud. Kurt tucked himself into the passenger's seat and sat read the book for the English class he was missing. He thought that the book would distract him, that it would calm the buzzing that had been building inside him with such intensity for the last few days. But he'd barely gotten past the first sentence before his attention was gone and there was no way to control the anticipation that was building in his gut, or in his heart. He glanced over at his father, Burt's focus on the road, his tight grip on the steering wheel, and Kurt knew that the same thoughts were running through his father's head that were in his own—and they were just as loud.<p>

What would Blaine look like? What would he _be_ like? Would he be the same lovable Blaine that Kurt knew so well? How had the last year changed him?

The tears built behind Kurt's eyes as he let his mind try to imagine the moment he saw Blaine again—the moment he could hug him again. Over the last year he'd done his best not to think about all of that because it was so far away, so abstract. Because when he did the longing that he felt for his best friend was suffocating. It choked him until he was sobbing in his bed, gasping for a real breath and the tears soaked his pillow. But as his dad pulled the truck into the crowded parking lot of Columbus City Hall, things were suddenly more than tangible. Inside the big white stone building with tall windows, was Blaine. Kurt inspected the building with eager eyes. This was it. This was the moment he'd been waiting for for the last three hundred and sixty-four days.

He glanced at the clock inside the truck, 2:45. There were only fifteen more minutes before the auction started.

Kurt jumped out of the truck like it was about to explode, and was headed towards the door before his father could even get his seatbelt off. He didn't stop until he reached the entrance, only waiting for his father because he wasn't eighteen and couldn't register for the auction. When Burt finally caught up, he added his name to the list and then he and Kurt followed the signs that directed them to the auction room. The overzealousness turned to panic as the other side of a set of double doors revealed hundreds of people seated around a podium and a raised circle platform in the center of the room. This was where they would show Blaine off; it was where Kurt was going to see Blaine again for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

* * *

><p>Burt led his son through the crowd, trying to find a seat close to the front. A strong opponent of slavery, and not one who could really afford it, Burt had never been to an auction before. He'd heard whispers about them—stories told as gossip when so and so bought a new slave when they already had so many, or when a slave rebelled and had to be restrained—people like the drama of it all. Burt hoped this was the first, and very last time, he would ever have to step foot in a room like this. He found two seats a dozen or so rows from the front and sat down, pulling Kurt down next to him. Kurt's knees bounced and Burt resisted the urge to tell his son to stop being so fidgety. But Burt knew that he himself was as nervous as Kurt was. They had done everything they could over the last year to save every penny so that they could get Blaine, so they could <em>buy<em> Blaine. And today they'd find out if it was enough. He could tell from the way the other people in the room were dressed, and the way the held themselves, that they had money; a lot of it. More than Burt did. What if someone outbid him and the price for the boy went beyond what he was able to offer? What would that do to Kurt? Or Blaine? Or himself? He loved Blaine like a son; he had since his very first tea party with Kurt. It had been so good to see his son smile so big for the first time since his mom had died. It killed him to know that Blaine's parents had left him without a plan, without a future. It had broken his heart to have to tell Blaine that his family was dead, and then watch being forced out of the only home he had left. He'd signed every anti-slavery petition he could find, gone to every rally in Lima. But the law was still as unjust as it always had been. This was the only option they had to bring Blaine home.

* * *

><p>The sound of the door opening brought everyone's attention to the center of the room and the raised platform. A tall redhead that Kurt recognized from television stood in her black pinstriped pant suit, her hands clasped in front of her as she explained how the auction would work. Each salve would enter, bidding would start at a predetermined price, and the auction would go until there was an uncontested bid. There would be no physical examination of the slave, and the skills and credentials for each slave would be provided before the bidding began. She asked for questions and when the room remained silent, the auction began.<p>

Kurt had never been more revolted in his life. He'd been against slavery his entire life, told by his mother and father that it was wrong and that they were people just like he was. That it wasn't right to take away their identities and their lives. But seeing it firsthand nearly made him sick. Starting with an eight year old girl with dark brown hair and continuing through six more boys and girls—none older than thirteen—each slave paraded out into the middle of the room, looking as if they weren't about to be sentenced to a life of oppression. They were all impeccably dressed and well groomed. The only thing that gave off any misgiving were the looks on their faces. Even though they tried to smile like this was a beauty pageant, there was a somberness that couldn't be erased; sadness in their eyes that had been put there by a set of unfortunate circumstances. They'd lost their families and their futures were gone too. Sold to the highest bidder.

He wanted to buy them all, take them all home and remind them that there were people who cared, that there were people who were fighting to save them. But he couldn't. Because they'd come only for Blaine, and Kurt was beginning to get impatient. Then Ms. Clark announced they had one final auction.

The door opened again and Kurt's heart stopped and the tears were rolling down his cheeks before he even knew what was happening. Because there was Blaine. For the first time in three hundred and sixty-four days, he was seeing Blaine. He'd been so worried about his best friend, unable to communicate with him, unable to know if he was alright. Not knowing if he was hurt, or worse. But as tragic as the circumstances were, seeing Blaine again made the tightness in Kurt's chest that had been constant for the last year release just a little. Blaine was okay. His hair was done up with a little too much hair gel, like it always had been, and the clothes he was wearing were the same that he'd left the Hummel's house in. He looked just like Blaine, the beautiful boy that Kurt couldn't imagine his life without…until their eyes locked.

* * *

><p>Blaine was certain that he was seeing things. That the last year of his life had finally caught up to him and that he was hallucinating. Or maybe it was a very vivid dream. Maybe he really wasn't at city hall about to be auctioned off. Maybe he was back in his bunk and when he woke he'd still be inside that bland room made of concrete listening to Sam snore. But when his eyes met Kurt's, he knew he was awake, that all of this was real. Because there was neither a dream nor a hallucination that could properly replicate the blue of Kurt's eyes—even from a distance. There wasn't a figment of his imagination that could copy Kurt Hummel into anything that was at all like the real thing. Seeing Kurt again after so long was like taking a deep breath. But then he was struck with an urge to run away, to curl up in the corner and scream out. Because he'd spent so much time—so many sleepless nights—convincing himself that he'd never see Kurt again. And as his training continued, he'd convinced himself that it was for the best. That he never wanted Kurt to see him now that he'd become something so different than the boy they'd taken away. But here he was—with Burt. The only question was, why?<p>

* * *

><p>The urge to jump from his seat and into Blaine's arms was nearly overwhelming. Sitting still was almost as hard as watching Blaine go had been. Kurt's every fiber yearned to go to Blaine, to hold him and never let him go. But he couldn't, not yet. So while his heart began to race in his chest, Kurt just watched Blaine, studying him. He looked older—like he'd grown more than just the year that had separated him. He looked thinner and taller, but he still looked just like Blaine. But there was something about his eyes. They'd always been able to capture Kurt and pull him into Blaine. Kurt remembered that the first time he looked at Blaine and really saw how gorgeous he was, he started with his eyes. He'd always known Blaine had a beautiful heart but seeing the rest of him that way had been startling, but he'd let the thoughts settle into him until they warmed him like the summer sun. He should have told Blaine before he left. But with their separation looming over their heads, it wasn't fair to either of them. But now Blaine's eyes just made him sad. And he wondered if Blaine was sad too. Kurt clasped his hands together in his lap, his nails digging into the skin of his hand as he tried to be patient, for the auction to begin, and for them to be able to take Blaine home where maybe his head wouldn't look so sad anymore.<p>

Ms. Clarke captured the audience as she introduced the final auction. Name, Blaine Anderson; Age, 16; Excelled in cooking, cleaning, sewing, music—especially piano and singing; Comes highly recommended from Mr. Gertie.

Kurt had no idea who that was, or what that really meant, but from the murmur floating across the room, many of the others did.

"We'll start the bidding at $5, 000," Ms. Clarke announced.

Excitement, anticipation, fear and panic nestled themselves inside Kurt the moment his father's arm was raised in the air, his paddle with the number 21 signally him entering the bid. Kurt thought he heard Blaine gasp, but the boy was too far away; much too far away.

"$5, 000," Ms. Clarke said acknowledging Burt's bid, "Do I hear $6,000?"

It was quiet for a moment and could feel the beginnings of relief wash over him. Not only would they get to bring Blaine home, but they wouldn't have to use all the money they had. Bringing Blaine home was priceless, but if they could give the loan back to the bank, it would make everything so much easier on them.

"$7, 500," a voice said.

Kurt's stomach dropped as he and Blaine both looked in the direction of the voice at the same time. He his eyes fell on paddle number 19, belonging to June Dolloway, One of Ohio's richest residents.

No, Kurt thought. No. No. No. No. No.

"$8, 000," Burt countered and Kurt was sure that his heart was going to race right out of his chest. Either that or it was going to stop completely. This wasn't happening! This wasn't supposed to happen.

"$9,000."

"$11,000."

"$15,000."

"$16,000"

"$18,000."

"$18,500."

Kurt knew that they were running out of room to be aggressive, that they'd nearly reached the amount of money that his father had in his wallet. He tried to suppress a whimper, but he failed, and it came out along with his ragged breath. They were going to lose Blaine. Blaine would go home with some rich old lady. And maybe she'd be good to him. Maybe she'd wouldn't hurt him and let him sing and dance around the kitchen sometimes. Maybe she'd hold his hand when he was scared at night. But she couldn't love him the way Kurt and his father could. She didn't know his favorite color was purple or green, depending on the day. She didn't know that if he was quiet, it just meant that he was thinking about something important. She didn't know Blaine like Kurt did, she didn't love him the way he deserved to be loved. He looked over and his eyes locked with the old woman's. Her face was stern and her eyes were beady. He knew there were tears in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks and he did his best to silently plead "Please don't take my best friend away from me! Not again!"

And then she broke eye contact with Kurt and looked up at Ms. Clarke, and then shook her head.

She was no longer in the race.

Ms. Clarke called for any additional bidders and Kurt vowed to strangle anyone who dare open their mouth or raise their hand or do anything that could jeopardize their chance of bringing Blaine home. When no one spoke, Ms. Clarke declared Bur the highest bidder and informed all the winners of today's auctions that their prizes could be paid for and picked up at the registrar's office. When Blaine disappeared again behind the door he'd entered, Kurt put his head in his hands and began to sob.

After a year of waiting, Kurt let the relief overwhelm him, let it tingle on his skin and pour from his eyes in the form of warm tears. So many nights he'd spent lying awake, thinking about what was happening to Blaine. He wondered if he was afraid, if he was cold or hurt. But the year of waiting and wondering was over, Blaine was coming home. And he could see for himself if he was alright. And he could be because he was with his family, the only people left in the world who loved him.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder, Kurt turned to find his father with tears pooled in his eyes. He could count on one hand the times he'd seen his father cry, but he knew he was as relieved as he was. He loved Blaine like a son and he'd been able to do the one thing Blaine's own father couldn't—make sure he was safe.

"Let's go get our boy," Burt said, "He's finally coming home."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> I hope your enjoyed the update! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought and I will have Chapter 3 to you as soon as I can!


	3. Chapter 3

**AN**: Happy Sunday Everyone! Thank you so much for all the love that this story has gotten so far! I appreciate it more than you know and I'm so glad that everyone seems to be enjoying it so far!

Big thank you to my amazing beta, Christine!

* * *

><p>Kurt ran his hand over his face in an attempt to push away the last bit of sleepiness that hadn't seemed to disappear despite the coffee he'd had that morning, or the fact that it was almost lunch time. But he supposed that's what happened when you've barely slept at night. It wasn't that Kurt hadn't tried. Every night he'd get into bed, close his eyes and then be unable to let sleep find him. Instead, his mind would wander, to Blaine, who was probably sound asleep down the hall. Kurt was grateful that Blaine was home, finally, but he'd been home for three weeks and Kurt had yet to so much as make eye contact with his best friend. Blaine never addressed Kurt, only the elder Hummel, and only by Master in a small whispered tone, his eyes focused on the floor. The whole exchange left a rotten feeling inside Kurt.<p>

For the first week that Blaine was home, Kurt understood Blaine's distance. Blaine had gone through something that Kurt was never going to understand, and adjusting back into his life wasn't going to be easy. So when Blaine flinched and excused himself from the room when Kurt tried to talk to him about a song they were doing in Glee club—a song that was one of Blaine's favorites—Kurt just smiled sadly and told himself to wait it out. That Blaine would come around soon.

But now two weeks later, Blaine was still as distant and reserved as ever, and nothing like the Blaine Anderson Kurt had known for the last nine years of his life. He was nothing like the boy who used to say that singing while doing homework helped him learn more; the boy who used to show up to his house on Sunday mornings, after they'd spent Saturday apart, with more cookies than either of them should eat; the boy who he'd come out to before anyone else in a whispered voice in his bedroom just months before Blaine as taken away; the boy who had made his heart leap and then flutter uncontrollably with just the simplest of smiles. That Blaine seemed to be long gone, and his in his place, a stranger.

When he'd told his father about everything the night before, just after Blaine had gone to bed. Burt took a deep breath that Kurt immediately recognized as a preamble for one of his father's famous talks. Then he sat Kurt down at the kitchen table.

"Look, Kurt," he'd said, "You and I both know that this thing with Blaine, it's different. It's different for us, and it's different than what he's been trainin' to do for the last year. So I told him that he doesn't have to do anything that he's not comfortable with."

"You-you talked to him?" Kurt questioned, his voice teetering between concern and jealousy. Why could Blaine talk to his father and not to him?

"He's not as chatty as used to be, but Kurt, you've gotta give him some time. We don't know what the last year has been like for him."

"But you talked to him?" Kurt interrogated, "I mean he talked to you?"

"I didn't get much more than a few 'yes, sir's out of him, Kurt. We may have gotten him instead of that June Dolloway broad, but that doesn't mean he's going to adjust any faster to us. Things aren't the same for him anymore, kid. No matter how much we try to make everything normal, a lot has changed. So let him be for right now, Kurt. When he's ready to talk to you, he will."

His father's words did nothing for the aching inside Kurt's chest. He missed his best friend, his best friend that was living in his house, and there was nothing he could do. And even more frightening were the questions that were bouncing around Kurt's head with no way of escaping because there was no way to get answers. What had happened to Blaine? What were they doing to those kids that would make Blaine not trust the one person he'd trusted for most of his life?

At his locker, Kurt switched out his history text book for his English one while making a silent plea to the universe to make this class—and the rest of the day—go by in a blur. It was Thursday and he had Glee rehearsal after school, but he looked forward to the moment he could get into his bed and hopefully sleep. Or better yet, the moment he could come home and Blaine would be waiting there for him. But neither of those options really seemed possible at the moment.

"Kurt," a voice chimed that immediately Kurt recognized as Rachel's, and rolled his eyes before turning to her. He was definitely not in the mood for this, "I need you to ask your father about hosting a sleepover for the Glee club Saturday night."

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, not the entire club," Rachel continued, "I think it would be good for the team if we took a night before sectionals to bond over hair and makeup and boys. The girls will gather at your place and I've asked Finn to do the same with the boys."

"Why can't you have this at your house?"

"I've already asked, but my dads are hosting a dinner for Rabbi Goldstein and a few of the others on the board at the community center so my house will already be occupied."

"I don't think this is a good idea," Kurt said. In fact, he was certain it was a terrible idea. Even if the idea of spending the night surrounded by the girls of New Directions didn't sound like a complete disaster, he wouldn't know what to do about Blaine.

It wasn't that no one knew that Blaine was there—and that he had been bought—but he hadn't had any guests over to the house since Blaine got home and he didn't know how Blaine would react.

"Please, Kurt," Rachel begged, "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important for the team."

Kurt sighed, "Fine, I'll ask my dad."

"Yes!" Rachel squealed in the middle of the hallway and then leaned up to hug and kiss Kurt on the cheek, "You're wonderful. Did you know that?"

Before he could respond, Rachel was practically skipping down the hallway and a headache joined the sleepiness that had been ailing Kurt. As the warning bell rang he made a mental note to text his father during lunch about the sleepover, and then pray the he said no.

* * *

><p>Blaine's mornings were pretty simple: up at dawn, bathed and dressed a short time later, make sure breakfast was ready before Master and Master's son woke up. And once they were both out of the house at work and school—and the table had been cleared—then it was time for his morning chores. It wasn't a long list, Master's house wasn't very big and it was only lived in by he and his son, so there wasn't much daily clean up. But today Blaine thought he'd clean up the leaves that had begun to fall from the tree in the backyard and then mow the lawn. Master didn't leave him with much direction when he left, so it was up to Blaine to keep himself working.<p>

As he dried the last of the dishes, he failed to push back the memory that had begun to play out in his head. The one of himself and Kurt in the backyard the summer before high school—their last summer together—talking about their wishes and dreams. About how they'd graduate high school and get the hell out of Lima, together. It had been a great day, but now it only brought Blaine sadness. Because everything had changed. Before he could let his mind wander any further, Blaine pushed his thoughts back to the present. The boy he was in that memory didn't exist anymore.

Blaine opened the front door of Master's house but only put one step over the threshold before something across the street caught his attention and stopped him where he stood. There was a woman, probably in her mid-to-late twenties, who was sitting in the grass playing with her son who couldn't have been more than two. They were sitting underneath the tree that was in front of the house that he had once called home. He'd been at Master's house for weeks, but this was the first time that Blaine had allowed himself to look across the street, to see what had become of his home. And just like everything else, it felt foreign. The house was once lived in by Blaine Anderson, and now Blaine Anderson no longer existed. He died on his fifteenth birthday.

In his place now was a shell of a boy. He had no name, no life of his own. He wasn't Blaine, son and brother; he wasn't Blaine, the boy across the street; he wasn't Blaine, Kurt Hummel's best friend. He was nothing more than a thing that _belonged_ to someone else. A thing that could be used and abused. And he didn't matter that he'd gotten lucky, and that the people who bought him up were kind to him, who had known him in his previous life. But he couldn't take any of his old life with him into the new one he as viciously struggling to adjust to. He couldn't think about the memories the house he lived in brought him. Who he once called Burt, he now called Master. And if he took the risk of speaking to Kurt, he'd call him Master's son. But just looking at Kurt made it impossible to forget who he once was and filled him with a longing he'd never stop feeling. Truthfully, the fact that Burt Hummel had been the one to take him home on Auction Day had been worse than anything he could imagined while he lie awake in that cold concrete room.

Blaine had spent a year imagining that wherever he ended up, he would be able to put his old life completely behind him. He'd be surrounded by people who didn't know him, people who never cared about him—who would never care about him. He would just be a slave, one of many, and as long as he kept his head down, he'd get through everything just fine. Maybe he'd get through his life with one master, or maybe a few. Then he would die, alone. He no longer had a past, and that was his future. Living in the Hummel house he had to be this new Blaine, slave, inside the world of Blaine Anderson, the son, brother, and best friend. He didn't belong to that world anymore, and he never would again.

He shook himself from his thoughts and pushed himself the rest of the way out of the house and into the garage. He shook his head again as he grabbed the rake and the lawn mower from the places he knew they would be. He growled in frustration when the memory of raking leaves with Kurt, only to have their neat piles completely destroyed when he tackled Kurt into the biggest pile and laughed at the narrow eyes Kurt gave him until his face broke into a smile. He couldn't keep reaching back and finding that old Blaine. He couldn't take comfort in his memories; they would only wound him more if he did. He had to focus on who he was now—a slave whose purpose was to serve his Master. As he started for the tree, rake in hand, Blaine promised himself that by the time he walked back into the house, he'd remember who he was, though it would be much easier if he wasn't constantly surrounded by who he used to be.

* * *

><p>Kurt was certain that his father had been too quick to say yes to his sleepover proposal. It hadn't exactly been noticeable from his simple text message reply, but the second Kurt walked in the door after Glee rehearsal that night, his father seemed very interested in the Glee club event that would be taking over his house that weekend. He never once mentioned that maybe having so many people in the house, with Blaine still adjusting, wouldn't be a good idea and when Kurt brought it up in a hushed tone like Blaine hadn't been up in his room, Burt waved it off.<p>

"Kurt, we're all adjusting here," his father had said, "But we can't stop living our lives now, just like we couldn't a year ago. You're going to be okay, Blaine is going to be okay, and I'm going to be okay even if my house is about to be full of teenage girls."

Kurt just nodded at his father. Maybe Kurt had been spending most of his free time at home since Blaine got back. But he needed to be there if Blaine decided he was ready to talk. And if it meant that he spent most of his time in his room waiting, then it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Though he would never go so far as to say that his life was on hold. Life moved on every day. There was still homework and Glee rehearsal and things that marked the passing of time. No, his life wasn't on hold; he was just waiting for one very big part of it to change.

But when he found himself squished into his living room on a Saturday night, surrounded by the six girls of New Directions, he found himself missing the time he'd spent with them before. Over the last year, while Blaine had been gone, Kurt had come to rely on his motley crew of friends. And even if they never really got a long and if there was always some kind of drama going on, when it came down to it, they had each other's backs. They'd turned into a family. And they were there for Kurt when he'd needed them the most.

So he let himself have fun. Not that it was hard, but he let the weight that had been sitting on his chest evaporate for a little while while they ate pizza, watched movies, and talked about sectionals. Everyone was excited for the chance to begin the competition season again. It had been cut short from them last year, but maybe this year they could make it all the way to nationals. The thought fueled the fire beneath all of them.

"So are we going to talk about the giraffe in the room?" Brittany asked.

Everyone eyed the bubbly, but not so bright, blonde curiously.

"Blaine!" Brittany said as if it had been totally obvious, "Kurt totally bought a slave and that slave was most definitely in my math class last year. He let me cheat off his homework but he didn't want to make out with me."

They'd only been in school a few weeks before everything happened and Kurt was surprised that anyone, especially Brittany, had recognized Blaine when he'd snuck into the kitchen to make himself dinner hours after their pizza had arrived. Blaine had left McKinley before there had been a Glee club and before either of them had a chance to get a grip on high school. But Brittany had bounced over to him and put half of a pizza in his hand, including the box, before bouncing back to the living room. Blaine had put the box back down on the table and went back to making himself a sandwich.

"Did you know him, Kurt?" Tina asked, "I mean, from before?"

He'd gotten a lot of attention after Blaine had left. Mostly from people who hadn't even known either of their names, but had seen them in the hallways together, or had gone to school with them since kindergarten. But McKinley was made up of students from all the surrounding towns, and not everyone knew Kurt and Blaine as the inseparable team they used to be. And since he'd barely spoken about Blaine to any of them, except for Rachel, he realized that answering Tina's question went beyond a simple yes. There was so much to tell, so much to explain. And he wasn't sure what he could or should say. For a brief moment, he thought about lying, about telling them that Blaine had been a stranger before he'd entered his house, but the thought alone twisted his gut as if, even if it was only for fleeting moment, had somehow been a betrayal to Blaine and what they'd shared. So he simply nodded.

"I've been trying to tell my parents that we need a slave," Santana said, "My house would always be in impeccable shape, my meals will always be made for me, my homework would be done, and if they're hot I'd always have someone to make out with when I need to digest my food."

"We had one when I was little," Quinn chimed in, "My mom said she was used and she didn't like her. So she sent her away."

"You're lucky, Hummel. You got a brand new one! All shiny and adorable," Santana said, "You can use him and abuse him and then send him off when you find something more sparkly and new to play with."

He'd always known Santana to be blunt and, most of the time, out of line, but his jaw still dropped at her words. From behind him he heard a gasp and the sound of something falling to the kitchen table. When he looked behind him, Blaine was in the kitchen again, cleaning up the mess they'd left on the table. His eyes were wide and wild and they met Kurt's for the briefest moment before he turned back to his work, picking up the pizza boxes that he'd dropped when Santana had spoken. Kurt's heart clenched in his chest as he turned back to Santana. If he thought Blaine would let him, he'd go to him and gather him in his arms.

"He's never going anywhere," Kurt said. His voice loud enough so that Blaine could hear him, his words sharp enough so that, he hoped, they dug into Blaine's head and that he believed them. Because no one was going to hurt Blaine, not again, and certainly in this house. He'd been disgusted that Santana had even said such a thing, like Kurt was a violent person.

When he turned back to the kitchen Blaine, and all the pizza boxes, were gone.

* * *

><p>The soft glow of the television was the only thing that illuminated the litter of sleeping bodies that filled the Hummel's living room. Everyone was asleep, except Kurt. It was going to be another long night of tossing and turning—in a very enclosed space—for him again. Tonight the words Santana had said earlier played over and over in his head and the guilt he felt because Blaine had heard them ran through every one of his nerves. He wanted to go to Blaine's room, apologize to him for what Santana had said. To remind Blaine that in this house, things were different. That neither he nor his father would ever hurt him. And they would never give him away. That they both loved him just as much as they always had. But it was nearly three am and if Blaine wouldn't talk to him in the light of day, he wouldn't be too happy with being woken in the middle of the night.<p>

Instead, Kurt cleverly maneuvered himself from beneath the blankets—and Rachel's leg—and padded into the dark kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, determined to try some warm milk to help him drift off to sleep. The light from the inside of the refrigerator cast shadows through the kitchen, but in the dim light Kurt noticed that someone was standing at the other end of the kitchen, leaning against the wall, his arms wrapped around his middle. In the dim light, Kurt could see Blaine, his eyes not looking at Kurt, but at some spot at his feet. Kurt noticed that Blaine didn't look rumpled from sleep, but that, like Kurt, he hadn't gotten any sleep at all.

"Hi," Kurt said. This was the first time they were this close and alone since Blaine had gotten home. He hadn't had a chance to say a single word to him since the car ride back from Columbus where Burt had stopped Kurt from talking a mile a minute as Blaine just sat in the backseat, quiet.

Blaine didn't answer.

"Right," Kurt muttered to himself. He grabbed the milk from the refrigerator and then closed the door bathing the room in darkness again until he turned on the light above the stove. Blaine still remained against in the shadows against the wall.

"I'm sorry about what Santana said earlier," Kurt said even though Blaine hadn't responded to anything Kurt said. But he was still in the room and if he didn't know if he was ever going to get a chance to talk to Blaine like this again, "You know that the rules don't really apply here, right? Not when it comes to me and my dad at least. You know we're not going to hurt you or send you away?

Blaine continued to stand silently against the wall, like he was waiting to be dismissed and couldn't leave until Kurt said it was okay. But Kurt couldn't bring himself to dismiss Blaine. Even if he wouldn't talk to Kurt, there was something oddly relaxing about having Blaine in the same room, only a few feet away. Kurt went to work pouring the milk into a pan and igniting the flame beneath it on the stove. Blaine never moved and they stood in silence until Kurt's milk warmed and he poured it into a mug. If this had been two years prior, he would have made a cup for Blaine, or they would have shared the one in Kurt's hand. But now Kurt wasn't sure how Blaine would react to something as simple as being offered milk, but there was a little left in the pan.

"I worry about you," Kurt whispered cradling the mug in his hand, "I stay awake almost every night worrying about you and you're right down the hall. I worry that you're not okay, and I don't know that you're not okay because you won't tell me. You won't even look at me. You used to tell me everything and I haven't gotten a syllable from you in over a year," Kurt's voice cracked and he took a deep breath to push away the tears before continuing, "I know dad said—and he's right—that you'll come to me in your own time, that I shouldn't push you. But I miss you, Blaine. I somehow miss you now more than I did when you were gone. And no one seems to care that I'm hurting too. I know it doesn't even compare to what you've—what you are going through—but I _really_ miss my best friend. Just—know that I'm here, okay? Just know that."

When Blaine nodded the small, simple gesture made Kurt's heart ache. Before Kurt could say another word, Blaine disappeared back towards the stairs. Forgetting about his milk, Kurt walked back to the cluster of girls in his living room and slipped in under the covers. He turned the TV off and rolled onto his side, facing Quinn's head instead of Rachel. In the darkness and the quiet of the house, the tears he'd been fighting began to cascade down Kurt's face in silent frustration. He hated what had happened to Blaine; he hated what they had become because of it. He was surrounded by people who loved him, but he'd never felt so alone. He wanted his best friend back.

Kurt fell asleep as the tears began to cool and dry on his face.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> I hope your enjoyed the update! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought and I will have Chapter 4 to you soon! I'm trying to keep to updating once a week, but there are some things coming up that may prevent me from doing so!


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the wait! Thank you to my amazing beta, Christine!**

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><p><em>Somewhere There's a World…<em>

Blaine knew the moment they stepped off the stage that they had won. He could feel it in the way his heart beat, the way his entire body felt alive, and the way Kurt smiled at him before crashing into his arms. They'd done it. Constant arguing over the set list and relentless practice had paid off, and the New Directions had won sectionals.

Now they were all back on the bus, about to embark on the journey back to Lima. For the first half of the two hour ride, the energy was high. There was more singing and dancing, everyone had a reason to celebrate. But now as the last of the sun was setting ahead of them, a sleepy silence fell over the entire bus, and most of the conversation was held in hushed tones.

"I told you," Blaine said softly in the seat he shared with Kurt in the back of the bus.

"Hmm," Kurt inquired not moving his head from where it rested against Blaine's shoulder.

"On my birthday. I told you we were going to win sectionals," Blaine whispered, "And here we are."

"You also told me that you loved me," Kurt said turning his head so that he could look at Blaine, a thrilled smiled on his face.

"I did," Blaine confirmed reaching down and taking Kurt's hand in his own, tangling their fingers together as they rested against Kurt's thigh, "I do."

Kurt leaned up and placed a sweet kiss against Blaine's lips, relishing in the smile that pressed against his own and the warmth that washed over him. He couldn't remember a time he'd been happier. He was in love and someone loved him back just as much. And he even got a trophy.

"Ugh, I can hear you two making out back there," Santana called from a few seats in front of them, "Could you keep the face sucking to a minimum until you're in the privacy of your own home?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and gave Blaine another quick kiss, then returned his head to the comfort of Blaine's shoulder.

* * *

><p>They spend an entire week and half during training explaining evaluations: how they work, what they mean, what can happen if they go right, or terribly wrong. Today was Blaine's first evaluation. It was also the day of the sectional competition.<p>

The house was eerily quiet as Blaine stood in the now empty dining room beginning to clean up after breakfast. Master's son had left a little while ago, accompanied by Rachel and Finn. Shortly after the visitors had arrived, Blaine made them all breakfast while Master's son and Finn did their best to calm Rachel's pre-competition jitters. Yes, they had the right set list; yes, the choreography was good. Blaine did his best to push away the jealousy that twisted around his heart from the reminder that, had things been different, he would have joined them at the table and would have been excited for the first competition of the season. But he shoved every last bit of the envy away and scolded himself. Those feelings belonged to Old Blaine. Instead he poured the coffee and tried not to notice the way Kurt's eyes followed him sadly around the room.

Now that they were gone, and Master was upstairs dressing for the evaluation, the quiet chaos calmed and the tension began to build and Blaine's insides were twisted in knots. He had one hour to clean up before Ms. Clark would be there to more or less interview Master about Blaine's performance over the last month. It was part of every slave's life, and the only relief Blaine got was because Kurt wasn't going to be around to witness it.

Evaluations came after the first month that a slave was with a single master, and then sporadically for two years after that—assuming that the slave stayed with the same master for that long. This meeting was the master's chance to voice any complaints they had about their slave, and it would be the job of the evaluators to record it in the slave's file and determine the consequences—which varied in severity. And it was unheard of for any evaluator to give out free passes. This was also the most frequent time that a master could begin the process of selling their slaves back to the government—for less than they paid, of course. The paperwork was immediately filed, and within a week, unwanted slaves were back in the system and up for auction. But like all things new, once they weren't any more they depreciated in value and in appeal, and it was harder for them to be sold. Blaine had never really gotten an answer as to what happened to those who became unsellable.

"Blaine?"

Blaine jumped at the sound of his name, then stood paralyzed over the dining room table with a plate in each hand. His heart hammered in his chest and the dread crawled over him from head to toe like dozen of tiny spiders as he peered, wild eyed, at Master who had come into the dining room while Blaine had been busy with his own thoughts. He remembered the instructor, Mr. Gertie, who had told them that having a single thought that deviated from what Master needed would result in disciplinary actions. He'd just thought about that day after his run in with Kurt in the kitchen, how could he be so careless as to take time for his own thoughts on the day of his first evaluation? Master catching him like this could be the thing that got him on the next bus back to Columbus. His entire body shook with the idea.

"Whoa, Blaine," Burt said stepping toward him, but the movement only caused Blaine to take a precautious step back. Burt hesitantly reached forward to take the plates from Blaine's hands, whose gaze had fallen to the ground, "You're okay."

Except he didn't feel okay. He didn't feel anything but the drumming of his heart in his chest, and the woozy feeling that suggested that he wouldn't be able to keep himself on his feet for much longer, "I-I'm sorry, Master," Blaine said, his voice rushed and strained, his eyes still focused on the floor.

Burt sighed sadly, "Nothing to worry about, kid. We all space out every now and then. And what did I tell you about that Master stuff? You haven't even called me Mr. Hummel since you were eleven, you don't need to call me Master, or sir, or any of that nonsense unless one of those evaluators are in the house. Blaine, you do understand that, right?"

Blaine remained quiet, not looking at Master. In a life long ago, he trusted the man in front of him more than almost any other adult in his life. He'd offered a safe place when he was away from home—even if home was just across the street. Old Blaine would have smiled and nodded, then gone upstairs to hang out with Kurt. Old Blaine would have trusted without a moment of hesitation when Burt said the rules didn't apply, the same way Kurt had. It wasn't that he didn't understand what he was being told, it was that he didn't know how to trust anything in the life he had now. Even if Master meant the words he was saying, the laws were the laws and could change at any time. And the promises that were being made would have to be broken. And that was surely to leave him infinitely more destroyed.

"Blaine," Burt continued after Blaine's silence, "Stop worrying. There is not a damn thing you could do to make me send you back to them. I'm going to tell Ms. Clark what a great job you've been doing around here and then I want you to do something like an actual sixteen year old. Watch a movie, or TV, read a book or raid Kurt's closet. I don't care.

Blaine almost scoffed. Kurt wouldn't be pleased if any version of Blaine went through his closet.

"I know there are things you've gotta do because you've been trained that you should," Burt continued, "Because there are rules. But I have rules too, for when there aren't eyes on us. And I know it's going to take some getting used to be, but I'd like for you to follow them. In case you haven't noticed, Blaine, there isn't a ton for you to do around here. Kurt and I, we don't really need a slave."

Blaine finally looked up at Burt, his eyes wide and bewildered, as the ache in his chest intensified. If they hadn't wanted him, why was he there? Why had they driven all the way to Columbus and paid more money than Blaine knew they had to take him home if they didn't want him? Why were they making promises when they didn't even want him there? Why hadn't they just let him go to someone else where he could forget about every memory their house kept tightly sealed within its walls?

"We don't need a slave," Burt repeated, "But what we do need is you, Blaine. Maybe Kurt more than anyone. We brought you back here because we needed to make sure you were okay. You understand that don't you?"

Blaine was quiet for a moment, shrugged, then grabbed he plates from Master's hands and disappeared into the kitchen.

* * *

><p>When Ms. Clark arrived, exactly on time, Blaine greeted her politely, though she didn't return the sentiment. He took her coat, made sure the coffee was in the family room, and then excused himself to his room. He wasn't allowed to be there during the actual evaluation. All the critique was going to come down to how Burt answered a series of standard questions. But just because he couldn't join them didn't meant he couldn't sit quietly on the floor next to the door and try to listen to what they were saying—what <em>Burt<em> was saying. But all that Blaine heard were murmurs, so he gave up after half an hour. It didn't matter; nothing he did was going to change the outcome of this evaluation.

Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed and thought about what Burt had said earlier—about he and Kurt not needing a slave, but needing Blaine instead.

Over the last year Blaine had learned how to stop wanting things. If there was one that that had been drilled into his head and literally carved into his skin, was that nothing mattered aside from what your master wanted. He woke up every morning with that thought in his head while he made breakfast; he remembered it while he washed the floor or put in a load of laundry; it haunted his unconscious as he tried to get a few restless hours of sleep every night. He'd gotten very good at pushing away the longing for home, the longing for someone who cared about him, the longing for a life that was his own while he'd been away. There was no point; he could never have any of it. But he'd never expected to see Burt and Kurt at that auction.

Blaine hadn't said anything when Burt asked if he understood. He didn't know how to tell Burt that he didn't feel like he knew how to do that anymore, how to be Blaine—at least the boy he remembered. He didn't know how to tell him that the world he was living in looked the same, but was completely different. That he didn't know how to just be. His head and his heart were constantly at war with each other. He couldn't look his best friend in the eye or even say a word to him without feeling like everything was going to crumble around him. He didn't know how to be someone who couldn't even take a walk down the block anymore, at least not by himself. He didn't know how to be one thing when they last year of his life had told him that he was something else: something worthless, something unlovable, something that no longer mattered. He didn't know how say any of that without sounding ungrateful. Because he was grateful. But he also wondered if his life would be easier if he'd belonged to someone else.

If he could figure out who Blaine was, if he could let the people in front of him in, would they still want him around? Would Burt still watch a football game with him? Would Kurt still sit beside him and sing along to the Hairspray soundtrack on Saturday afternoons? Would he even have time for Blaine now that he had so many more friends? Blaine wasn't sure how he could fit into Kurt's life of trips to the mall with Mercedes, brunch with Rachel, and glee rehearsal four days a week.

Burt called Blaine down when Ms. Clark was ready to leave a few hours later. She had a smile on her face as she shook Burt's hand at the door. She handed him the paper from her clipboard and then bid Burt farewell, never acknowledging Blaine. When the door was shut, Blaine looked at Burt expectantly.

"You passed," Burt said with a proud smile, "With flying colors if you ask me."

* * *

><p>"Why are you staring at your phone like that?"<p>

Kurt looked up from where his eyes—and his attention—were fixed on his cell phone to look at Tina. He was waiting for his father to call, text, or something to let him know how Blaine's first evaluation had gone. He'd been both upset and relieved to find that it had been scheduled to take place the same day as sectionals. This way he didn't have to sit in the room while his father was talking to the evaluator. But what if something had happened and that was why his dad hadn't contacted him yet? What if his father was currently fighting with some idiot who was trying to take Blaine away from them? What if he needed to be at home with his father and Blaine and he was in Westerville competing in a show choir competition? He'd spend an entire lifetime not talking to Blaine if it meant that he at least knew where he was and that he was safe.

His father was certain that there would be no reason for Kurt to be home for the evaluation, that he wasn't going to let anything happen to Blaine, and that he would update him once the evaluator left. But the appointment had been hours ago, and his phone remained silent. New Directions was scheduled to go on in fifteen minutes, and Mr. Schuester was calling for them to warm up.

"It's nothing," Kurt said with a heavy sigh and put his phone down to join the group. For the next half an hour he didn't have any choice but to forget about the world outside and focus on the stage.

Their set list was great, their costumes were amazing, their choreography was…as good as it was going to get.

Kurt knew the moment he stepped off stage that they had won. It didn't matter that there was still another group after them, but they were the best. Pulling himself out of Mercedes's arms and back into the real world, Kurt reached for his phone while the rest of his teammates continued their celebration. His heart stopped when he saw the text from his father but he let out the breath he'd been holding when he read the words.

_Everything went fine. Blaine's in his room._

A single tear fell from Kurt's eye. Now he really had a reason to celebrate.

* * *

><p>Sunday morning Kurt took his time getting out of bed. He had nothing ahead of him but a pile of homework, but after winning sectionals the day before he wasn't going to let anything—especially Macbeth—get him down. Once he was showered and dressed, he grabbed his bag from on top of his desk and went downstairs to the kitchen. The house was peacefully quiet; his dad had mentioned something about going to hang out with one of the guys from the garage to watch the game so he didn't expect him to be back for hours. Kurt turned the coffee pot on and threw some toast in the toaster then blindly reached into his bag to grab his book while he waited. But his hand didn't immediately find his copy of the Shakespearian tragedy; instead he pulled out the CD that he had bought at one of the booths in the lobby at sectionals.<p>

He'd had to buy it when no one else was looking, but the moment Kurt had heard the Dalton Academy Warblers perform, he'd thought of Blaine. So he snuck into the lobby during one of the breaks between the groups and purchased one of their "Greatest Hits" CDs from someone he was grateful didn't recognize him as part of the competition.

Blaine loved a capella music. There was something about the combination of voices without instruments that excited Blaine whenever they would be sitting on Blaine's bed listening to music. Blaine had always looked so adorable getting excited about harmonies.

And maybe he thought that if he gave Blaine the CD it could lead to something more. Like a conversation.

Ignoring the toaster popping, the coffee brewing, and Macbeth, Kurt held tightly to the CD and went up to Blaine's room. When he got to the top of the stairs he saw that the door was open slightly. When he knocked the door opened further and Kurt tried his best to stop the gasp from escaping his lips, but he'd failed. In front of the mirror, Blaine stood shirtless, his entire upper body exposed and glowing in the morning light that was coming through the window. But it wasn't the exposed skin that had made Kurt gasp, it was the tattoo that was prominently etched into the skin on Blaine's upper arm, and the scar that that ran vertically along Blaine's right side and disappeared onto his back.

Kurt immediately recognized the tattoo as the mark of the slave. Every one of them had it on their right harm—a crest that, honestly, reminded Kurt of the crests from Hogwarts—but they were always in black and white and beneath the crest the banner read "ut ministraretur ei" which translated as "to serve others" from Latin. Kurt knew from various history classes throughout his life that it was that idea, of serving others, that had allowed the slavery movement to grow into what it had become. To serve others, and to serve the government. It was nothing more than something that fed our country's economy. It had upset Kurt before, seeing the government use children the way they did. But now that it was Blaine's arm that bore the logo, he was furious. There had to be something he could do—something _someone_ could do.

"I-I'm sorry," Blaine said hurrying to put his shirt on," I-I didn't know you were awake. I'll get right on breakfast."

Kurt didn't know whether to laugh or cry because, regardless of the situation, Blaine was speaking directly to _him._ It was overwhelming and Kurt found himself staring at Blaine until the other boy shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Uh," Kurt said regaining his composure, "Don't worry about breakfast, I can feed myself. I just—I just wanted to give you this."

Kurt extended the CD towards Blaine who took it with hesitant hands, inspecting it like a diamond before looking up at Kurt curiously.

"Sectionals were yesterday," Kurt explained, then blushed embarrassed, because Blaine knew that, "Anyway, we won, but the Warblers were one of the teams we were up against and they were really good, so I thought you might like that. I think we have the stereo from your old room—I think it's in the basement. If you want I can get it and we can hook it up in here."

Blaine's gaze moved back to the CD in his hand as he continued to inspect it, as if something on it could tell him the secrets of the universe. Then he shook his head.

"Okay," Kurt said, trying to hide the hurt in his voice because now that Blaine had recovered from the shock of him being in his room, he stopped talking again, "If you ever change your mind, let us know. We've got a bunch of stuff down there. We got a lot of it out before the people came and got it for the auction."

Blaine nodded and Kurt told himself that was enough, for now. That at least Blaine heard and understood him, even if he was still so closed off to him. With a tight smile, Kurt backed out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen, to Macbeth and cold toast. But not even a murderess Lady Macbeth could pull his thoughts away from Blaine. He'd known to expect the tattoo, the branding, on his arm. But he hadn't been prepared for the angry pink mark that started just above his waist and disappeared onto his back. Someone had hurt Blaine and Kurt couldn't help the rage that began to boil in his gut. He was angry that anyone would leave a mark like that on another human being, let alone Blaine. He was angry that with one year and one scar, for the first time in his life, there was a part of Blaine that Kurt didn't know. And because he didn't know it, he couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand Blaine. They used to share everything, now Blaine had secrets. Secrets that Blaine could hide behind clothing and that were locked in his head.

Even if Blaine spoke to him again, would he ever tell Kurt the things he kept to himself now? And if Blaine always kept a part of himself hidden from Kurt, would Kurt ever really know Blaine again?

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you for reading, and for all the love that this story has received. Again, sorry about the wait. There won't be an update this coming weekend, but we should be back on schedule for the week after. Please leave a review and let me know what you think.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**AN**: Happy Sunday Everyone! Thank you again for all the love you've given this story! I appreciate it more than you know! And thank you for being patient for this chapter!

Big thank you to my amazing beta, Christine!

* * *

><p><em>Somewhere There's a World…<em>

Blaine had never been more nervous in his life. And if he felt like this now—just getting _permission —_what was he going to do when it was actually time to do it? Probably fall to the ground and just lie there waiting for this crazy idea to pass. Except, it wasn't crazy, and he was pretty sure it was the easiest decision he'd ever made. So why was he almost certain that his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest?

Blaine held tight to the banister halfway down the stairs. He and Kurt were back in Lima for Christmas, a getaway from the busy streets of New York City to the comfort of their childhood homes and their family. It was Christmas Eve and Kurt was currently out with Mercedes doing a little last minute Christmas shopping. Blaine had been wrapping presents at his parent's house across the street when he realized that his mother's gift was hiding in Kurt's bag and quickly ran over to the Hummel house to retrieve it.

Once he had the necklace he'd bought his mom in his hands, he found himself looking around Kurt's room—a room that felt as much like his own as the one across the street did. His eyes scanned the room taking in all the pieces of their childhood that they'd left behind when they moved to New York together. It was more than just physical reminders. There was the spot where they'd had their first fight as a couple, and the corner where they'd kissed each other like pleas for forgiveness afterward. It was the room where they came out to each other, where they picked each other up after a bully had gotten the best of them. It was the room where Blaine fell in love with Kurt before he understood what love was. It was that thought that had driven him quickly out of the room and halfway down the stairs before he froze.

It wasn't like he wasn't planning on doing this while they were home, but was now the really the right time? What if he said no? What if he banished Blaine from his house and his life?

"Kid, I can hear you breathin'," Burt said interrupting his internal freak out, "You might as well come down here and tell me what's goin' on."

Blaine took a deep breath and descended down the rest of the stairs to come face to face with Burt, who was still in the chair he'd been in when he'd walked into the house. But while he'd just managed to say hello to Blaine when he'd come in, now he was looking at Blaine with curious eyes that he'd known since he was nine. Blaine knows that he knows. Burt _knows_.

"Can I talk to you?" Blaine asked.

"Come sit down, Blaine," Burt said gesturing towards the couch next to him, "This must be important."

"It is," he said taking a seat on the couch he'd spent many Saturday nights curled up on.

"Then tell me what it is because you're freaking me out. You and Kurt didn't have another fight did you? Because I can't have one of you accusing me of taking sides again."

"No," Blaine said, a hint of a smile on his lips. The way their families were close, it was sometimes hard to remember that Burt was actually Kurt's father and didn't really belong to Blaine, "We didn't have a fight."

"Then out with it before we miss the dinner your mom is makin' for tonight."

Blaine worried his bottom lip between his teeth and looked at Burt. Burt who he trusted and loved as if he was his own father currently looked big and scary.

"I'd like to ask Kurt to marry me," Blaine said in a rush, "And I want to know that you're okay with it."

Burt face wasn't shocked, or surprised, "Today?"

"No, not today—I mean, I would—but no, not today," Blaine shook his head, "But soon. Maybe after we graduate in May. I don't really know when, I just know that I want to. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more in my entire life."

"Not even that grand piano that you wanted when you were twelve?" Burt teased. Some of the tension in Blaine's shoulders fell away.

"That is a close second," Blaine joked. But really, being with Kurt, _marrying _Kurt, was really his whole list. He'd give up everything if it meant spending the rest of his life with Kurt by his side.

"You really want to marry my kid?" Burt asked looking Blaine square in the eye.

Blaine smiled, "Yes."

Burt reached out and put his hand on Blaine's shoulder, "Kid, you've had my blessing since you two idiots told me that you were together."

Blaine felt like crying, singing, and dancing at the same time, "Thank you."

"Just promise me something."

"Anything."

"Make sure when he finally says yes, that you both remember to give us a call before you get too swept up in the excitement, alright?"

Blaine smiled, big and bright, "Of course."

* * *

><p>By the time Kurt walked through the door, he was certain that there was no way that his day could get any worse. He somehow managed to spill his coffee on both himself and the interior of his car that morning, and then everything else seemed to continue in the same life ruining fashion. He was completely unprepared for the pop quiz in history—though he could have sworn that he had picked up his history text book the night before—his English paper came back with a big red C on the top, and he was going to have to make up some excuse in order to spend his entire weekend Rachel Berry Free. It wasn't that he didn't love her, she was one of his best friends and he couldn't imagine what the last year of his life would have been like without her, but sometimes there was just a limit to what Kurt could take. If her constant chatter about regionals wasn't enough, she'd seemed less than sympathetic when he took two minutes that afternoon during lunch to vent about everything that had—or hadn't—been going on with Blaine.<p>

"Kurt," she'd said, "I know you still care about him like he's your best friend, but he's not. Not really. He's not even really your friend anymore."

The words had come out of Rachel's mouth like she had told him that the sky was blue; so matter of fact. They made the middle of Kurt's chest tighten and ache and the pressure began building behind his eyes. Was Rachel right? Had things changed so much that he was never going to get Blaine back the way he wanted? He'd already been asking himself those questions, so maybe there was something to be said about Rachel's opinion. If someone on the outside could see their relationship dissolving, why couldn't he?

Because Kurt still felt like Blaine was his best friend. Blaine was still the person he wanted to tell his deepest secrets to, he was the person he wanted to unload on when he got home after a long day of teachers and glee club, and even if Blaine hadn't said more than five words to him since he'd been home, it didn't meant that they still weren't friend—_best friends._ Right?

Kurt walked into the kitchen and was surprised to find Blaine standing over the stove, stirring something inside a pot. Normally, his father insisted on cooking dinner. Mostly to show Blaine that they were capable of doing things for themselves, that in this house, it wasn't up to him to do these things. But also because his father liked to use the cooking skills that Kurt had been teaching him—and if those failed he was already a master as ordering pizza. But his father's car hadn't been in the driveway.

"Where's my dad?" Kurt asked leaning against the refrigerator. If he couldn't talk to his best friend, the least he could do was take comfort in his father's supportive ear.

Blaine froze with the spoon still in the pot then looked over at Kurt, eyes wide like he was a deer about to be demolished by a semi-truck. Kurt had asked him a direct question, and there was no way for him to dodge it, "He's—uh—he's staying late at the garage to finish up a-a car. Sir."

It was one word, but in the moment Kurt's brain took to comprehend the words, something inside him that had been pushed over and over the last few days—and specifically over the last few hours—snapped. Sir? Had Blaine really just called him sir?

"So you can only talk to me when you think you have to serve me," Kurt asked venomously, his glare cold as he looked at Blaine, "But you can't talk to me when I want to have a conversation with my _friend_?"

"God! I don't even really need you to say anything, I just need you to stop running from the damn room every time I try to talk to you! And I can tell that right now you want to run away from me again. You won't even look at me. I know you, Blaine! No matter how long we're apart or how much you ignore me, I still know you better than anyone."

"What I need," Kurt continued, "is my best friend, and you aren't there! So maybe Rachel was right. Maybe you and I aren't friends anymore. And maybe we won't be ever again."

In an instant, in the moment that he verbalized one of his greatest fears, all the anger Kurt had been feeling evaporated, leaving him sad, tired, and a little bit guilty. Blaine hadn't deserved to be yelled at, not because he'd been distant, and certainly not because Kurt was having a bad day. But that didn't change how he felt. It didn't change anything.

"I'm going upstairs," he muttered as he stormed out the kitchen, leaving Blaine staring at the ground.

* * *

><p>The moment Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury walked into his French class and the guidance counselor whispered something to Madame Herman while his choir director's eyes watched him like someone had just kicked his dog, Kurt knew something was wrong. And by the time they sat him down in Ms. Pillsbury's office, Kurt was sure that the tightness he felt in his chest could only mean that something was wrong with either Blaine or his father. And since his father would have been there if something had happened to Blaine, but was nowhere to be seen, the uneasy feeling immediately traveled to his gut, leaving him nauseous before Mr. Schuester even uttered the words, 'Your father is in the hospital."<p>

Ten minutes later, Kurt found himself in the back seat of Mr. Schuester car, staring silently out the window, Ms. Pillsbury in the passenger seat. Kurt let the fear build inside him, but held it close so that he could contain it. He wouldn't let himself cry, not yet. Because no one knew what was waiting for them at Lima Memorial. He could walk in and see his father awake and laughing with the doctors, demanding to be sent home immediately. Or he would walk into his worst nightmare and his dad would already be gone. There was no way for Kurt to know, and as scared as he was of finding out what was waiting for him, he wished Mr. Schuester would drive a little faster.

When the doctor met him in the waiting room, they can only tell Kurt that his father has had a heart attack, and that they're currently running some tests. So he sat, and waited, and stared at the wall even when Mr. Schuester tried to talk to him. He didn't want to talk; he just wanted his father to be okay. He still hadn't cried, and he wouldn't cry until he knew what he was up against. Until then, he just wanted to stare at the wall and not let his thoughts run wild.

It was two hours before the doctor returned, and Kurt could tell by his grim expression that the news wasn't good. He said things like "arrhythmia", "lack of blood to his brain", "comatose" and "no guarantees." He didn't really hear the rest; he knew what he needed to know. Then he excused himself to the nearest bathroom to throw up.

He'd been eight when his mom died, and it had been so sudden that he hadn't had time to wait and worry and wonder. He just came home from school one day and then that was it. This was so much different. His father was lying in a hospital bed in a coma, and all Kurt could do was sit around and hope that the doctors could make it better, that his father could fight through all the bad and wake up and come back to the world, come back to Kurt. When the last wave of nausea passed, Kurt sat on the floor of the bathroom stall, leaning his head against the partition. And then he cried. He cried because he'd never felt so lost in his life; he cried because his father could possibly die; he cried because everything seemed so hard lately. He cried until Mr. Schuester came looking for him. He ignored his teacher, but picked himself off the ground, walked out of the stall, and over to the sink. He rinsed his mouth out and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was splotchy and his eyes red rimmed, but he took a deep breath and silently followed Mr. Schuester back to the waiting room.

* * *

><p>Kurt managed to get Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury to leave him around dinner time. Kurt was very appreciative for being there with him—he knew that Glee club had been canceled that afternoon—but he would be allowed to see his father soon, and he didn't need them to sacrifice any more of their day.<p>

"Kurt," Mr. Schuester said, "Are you sure you're okay here by yourself? Do you want me to call Rachel?"

"No," Kurt said shaking his head, "I'll be okay. I'm just going to sit with him."

"If you need anything, call us," Mr. Schuester told him, Ms. Pillsbury nodding beside him.

Kurt nodded in return and watched as they hesitantly walked away. When he knew they had turned the corner, no longer in sight, Kurt began the trip down the hall to his father's room. He walked slowly, his feet feeling heavier with every step, the sound of his foot hitting the linoleum echoed down the hallway. Other hospital rooms lined both sides of the hallway, some with their doors open, some with curtains covering the windows, others allowing full access to the sick patient and their families inside. But Kurt wouldn't dare look in. He didn't want to intrude and he really didn't want to see what was inside.

When he reached the last door on the left he stopped. The name beside it read Hummel, Burt, and Kurt knew that it was only one more step before everything would be real. His father's condition would no longer be what the doctors had told him, but something he would see firsthand on his father's face, on his skin, in the sound of the machines beeping beside him. But he could hear them from the hallway, and with a shaky breath Kurt walked through the open door.

It looked like he was sleeping, and Kurt thought that maybe he could pretend for a little while that he was. That this was like when he was little and he used to sneak into his parent's bedroom to wake them up on Christmas morning so that they could open presents. He imagined that he could wake his father up just by shaking his shoulder or jumping on his bed. But he knew that he couldn't. Instead, he took a seat in the chair next to the bed and watched his father. He studied his father's grey skin, his eyes, his mouth, and his nose. For what, he wasn't sure. Maybe if he looked long enough he'd see something that told him that everything was going to be alright. But there was nothing there to reassure him. Kurt reached out and carefully took his father's hand off the bed and into his own, holding it tightly. His father's hands were dry even though Kurt had gotten him that special lotion for Christmas last year, but they were his dad's hands and they felt like home, like safety. So he just held them, afraid that if he let go that he would lose that security, he'd lose everything.

Kurt didn't know how much time had passed; he just knew that it was late and that he was tired when a nurse came into his father's room. Kurt looked up and saw that the nurse was Finn's mom, Mrs. Hudson. They'd met at the Glee invitational last year.

"Honey, why don't you go home and get some rest? We'll call you if anything changes?"

Kurt shook his head, "I-I can't. I don't want to leave him. Besides, I think my car is still at McKinley."

Mrs. Hudson scribbled something down on his father's chart then looked at Kurt, "Finn is going to be swinging by to drop off some things for me in a little while. He can drive you home and then take you to get your car tomorrow. Or is there someone else we can call?"

"I-I don't know," Kurt said. Because since his mom died, it had only been Kurt and his father. At least until Blaine had come around.

_Blaine._

In the chaos he'd forgotten about Blaine. Blaine who was sitting at home, expecting both him and his father to be there. He wouldn't have tried to contact either of them; he wouldn't think it his place. And suddenly he needed to be home, he needed to see Blaine. It didn't matter if he talked to him or even looked at him, the urge to be home was so overwhelming that Kurt pulled out his phone and called Finn himself.

The drive to Kurt's house was quiet. Aside from a "dude, how are you? Mr. Schuester told us what happened," Finn seemed to understand that Kurt didn't want to talk about it and left him to stare out the window anxious to get home, to get to Blaine. He shouted a thank you towards Finn and was out of the car before it was even in park.

He was surprised to find Blaine sitting on the couch in the living room. He spent very little time outside of his room when he wasn't doing chores that it felt strange to see him there, but also very right.

"Where have you been? Where is your dad?" Blaine asked, his voice high and near hysterical.

The tears rolled down Kurt's cheek before he could stop them. Because he was scared for his dad and all he wanted for the last year was for Blaine to be in front of him looking like he did now. Like he cared; like he was his friend; like he'd be by his side through anything. Because more than ever before, Kurt _needs_ Blaine. Without thinking he took the three quick strides towards Blaine and threw himself into Blaine, his arms wrapping around Blaine's neck, holding him close. Because screw the months of not talking. Screw the "sirs" and the pleas for conversation. Screw everything that had happened because he just needs to know that Blaine is real.

When Blaine's hesitant arms wrapped around him, Kurt gasped, cried a little harder, and then buried his face into the crook of Blaine's neck.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Thanks for reading, lovelies. Please leave a review and let me know what you think! I promise not to leave waiting for Chapter 6 for too long!


	6. Chapter 6

**BIG Thank you to my beta, Christine. And to Laura, the best cheerleader a girl could ask for. I'd be lost without them both!**

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><p>There was still time before the sun came up when Blaine blinked his eyes open. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't in his room; he was nestled into the corner of the couch in the living room. The second thing he noticed was the weight against his left side. With tired eyes he turned his head enough to see Kurt, his head on Blaine's shoulder, getting a little bit of the sleep he desperately needed. The traces of pain and heartbreak that had been so clear when he'd walked in the door the night before had disappeared, for now.<p>

Blaine had been so worried when dinner rolled around and he hadn't seen or heard from neither Burt nor Kurt. It wasn't normal for a Master to tell his slave anything about what he was doing with his time—that had been burned into his mind as he watched another get the lesson beaten into their skin—and Blaine thought maybe they both had something going on that they hadn't mentioned. But he knew Burt better that that; he'd promised Blaine more than that. He called Blaine throughout the day to check in and always told Blaine if he was going to be late. Burt was so different than the Master he'd been trained to expect, and he'd been trying so hard to prove it since he'd passed his first evaluation. Blaine had thought a lot about what Burt had said since then. "We need you to be Blaine," he'd said, and while Blaine still wasn't sure how to do that, he'd spent the nights since then falling asleep a little easier while he thought about all the ways he could find out.

The first thing he'd done was turn the radio on while he was cleaning the kitchen the previous morning. It wasn't really dirty, but it wouldn't hurt to give the counters and floor a good wash. The radio sat on top of the partition that separated the kitchen from the family room and caught the end of Queen's Don't Stop Me Now coming softly through the speakers. It had been Burt who had listened to the stereo last. He kept the radio on all day—through laundry and dinner preparations; only turning it off when the sun had begun to set and neither of the Hummel men had come through the door. In the silence of the house, Blaine sat at the kitchen table as the hours passed, waiting and wishing for someone to walk through the door. Eventually the worry began to eat away at him.

Something had happened; Blaine was sure of it. For a long moment, Blaine let his panicking mind take over and wondered if Burt and Kurt had met the same fate as the rest of his family. The weather had been perfect, but what if some idiot was driving drunk or texting and hadn't seen that it wasn't his turn, but Kurt's at the intersection? What if someone had lost control of their vehicle and went crashing into Burt's? What if he was never going to see either of them alive again? While he was in training, knowing that Burt and Kurt were out there somewhere, even if he never saw either of them again, was what had kept him going. Could he call the police? Would they reprimand him for using his Master's property without permission?

Blaine had nearly worked himself into hysterics before Kurt came through the door and before Blaine could even comprehend what was happening, Kurt was in his arms. He'd been torn between relief that Kurt was alright and the heartbreak of learning of Burt's condition. Holding Kurt close to him had been like a dream he'd been denying himself come true. He forced back the tears that gathered in his eyes while Kurt told him everything that had happened. When Kurt put his head on his shoulder and laced their fingers together like they'd done so many times before, Blaine didn't argue. He didn't want to. He'd opened up to Kurt for a brief moment, but it had been enough for his walls to begin to crumble. His head could deny Kurt, but his heart, body, and soul couldn't. And he decided that maybe it was time to stop fighting all of that and let himself be close to Kurt, at least for one night.

Kurt still asleep on his shoulder, Blaine thought about what Kurt had said a few days before—about him needing Blaine and Blaine not being there; about them not being friends anymore. He'd felt guilty when Kurt lashed out at him. He had wanted to be there for Kurt, to be the sympathetic ear to help bear his burdens. He couldn't give Kurt what he wanted then, but now Kurt needed him in a way he'd never needed him before. And there was no way that Blaine could turn his back on him. Even though time and life had separated them, and would likely do it again, Kurt Hummel was still his best friend. It didn't matter who Blaine discovered he was; that was never going to change. There wasn't a version of Blaine that wouldn't care about Kurt, who wouldn't do everything and anything for him. Whatever the risk, it would be worth it.

* * *

><p>Kurt felt himself getting plunged into consciousness by the sound of his phone beeping somewhere around him. He felt like he'd barely slept and immediately that damn Taylor Swift song that Rachel had been singing all week was stuck in his head. He'd have to talk to her about what she performed in his presence. He hadn't realized he wasn't in his bed until he felt a chill in the room and moved to pull the blanket over his head, and was met with nothing but the fake leather of the couch. He was then aware that his pillow was a lot firmer than it should have been and that he wasn't lying down, but in a pseudo-sitting position. He sat up quickly, his eyes opening to the morning sun that had only recently peaked from beneath the horizon and then finding Blaine beside him.<p>

And then he remembered everything: his father's heart attack, hours at the hospital without answers, hours pleading with his father's unconscious form to just wake up, Finn driving him home, crashing into Blaine's arms, falling asleep next to him.

He almost didn't want to speak, afraid that the sound of his voice would startle Blaine, bring his attention to what was happening and he'd run away like he had been for months. Blaine was next to him, their fingers still linked between them, and he couldn't lose that. Not now, not when it felt like the ice was cracking beneath his feet and one wrong step could send him into the arctic waters.

"Hi," he said cautiously.

"Hi," Blaine responded and when the sir didn't follow, Kurt let go of the breath he'd been holding.

There was so much that Kurt wanted to say. He'd spent months thinking about what he would say to Blaine if Blaine would listen. But the only thing that made sense was "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you," Kurt said quietly, his voice so much gentler than it had been the last time they spoke, "That we weren't friends anymore. That's not true."

"It's okay," Blaine said looking at the couch cushion instead of Kurt.

Risking it, Kurt pulled on their joined hands, holding tighter to Blaine, "No, it's not. Will you look at me, please?" Kurt asked desperately. He wanted Blaine to know that he hadn't meant what he'd said, that he was still on Blaine's side. That he always would be. When Blaine's eyes met his for the first time in so long, a rush of happiness, and relief, filled Kurt, "I know this hasn't been easy, and I know you have your reasons. And I think I understand why you haven't wanted to talk to me. You didn't deserve for me to lash out at you like that. And not that it's any excuse but I was having a particularly bad day. That was only followed by a much worse one."

"It doesn't matter," Blaine said, his eyes still locked with Kurt's, "I'm here now."

"I really like it when you don't run away from me," Kurt said, "Will you explain it to me one day?"

Blaine hesitated for a moment, "Maybe. I don't know if I know how."

Kurt nodded. He owed Blaine all the time in the world, and he'd give him every second. Afraid that he'd chase Blaine away with a hug, he settled his head back down on Blaine's shoulder, happy when Blaine didn't push him away, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," Blaine said squeezing Kurt's hand where they still linked.

Really?" Kurt asked.

"Really," Blaine said turning his head so that he could look at Kurt, "You're right, I had my reasons. But that doesn't mean I didn't miss you every second."

"I'm just glad you're here now," Kurt said relishing in Blaine's honesty and snuggling closer, "I don't know that I would be able to handle any of this without you."

"He'll be okay, Kurt," Blaine said confidently. As if Kurt had asked him his name or the color of the sky, "But you don't have to do any of this alone."

Kurt nodded, hoping that he could somehow gain Blaine's optimism by simply agreeing. If Blaine could see the hope, couldn't he? "Will you come with me to see him? I think he'd like that."

Blaine was quiet for a minute and Kurt feared that he'd said the wrong thing and despite everything he'd just said, Blaine was about to run, "I can't," he said after a shaky breath, "It's not that I don't want to, but I-w-they don't allow slaves in the hospitals."

"Oh, right," Kurt said, the sadness in his words and written on his face.

"Let me make you breakfast," Blaine whispered.

"No," Kurt said picking his head up off Blaine's shoulder, "You really don't have to do that, Blaine. I'm not even hungry."

"I can hear your stomach growling, Kurt," Blaine said sliding off the couch, untangling their hands for the first time since Kurt had woken. He immediately missed having Blaine so close, "I want to. You're going to need more than a cup of coffee today."

"Fine," Kurt said, "But seriously, just put some toast in and I'll be in there in a minute."

"Okay," Blaine said and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alone, Kurt let his thoughts wander back to his father. Mrs. Hudson had promised to call if there had been any change, but as he picked up his phone—his battery nearly dead—he found that he only had several missed calls from Rachel and text messages from most of New Directions. He'd go see his father soon and he'd need to get his car back from the high school parking lot before something happened to it. It was still early and he knew that Finn slept until noon on the weekends, so he sent Rachel a text message, knowing she was already awake, asking her to take him to McKinley in an hour. He thought about calling the hospital but was terrified of what they'd say, so he pushed himself off the couch and padded towards the kitchen.

"Blueberry or banana?" Blaine asked, a bowl in one hand and the pancake mix on the counter. Blaine had completely ignored Kurt's request for toast, but it only made something stir in Kurt's chest. If he let himself forget, this would just be like all of those Saturday mornings they'd had before Blaine had gone away, and that the last year hadn't happened, and that his father wasn't lying in a coma. He desperately wanted that fantasy to become reality. He could remember that the first time that his heart sputtered in Blaine's presence had been on a Saturday morning when Blaine had come over and his father made them both pancakes. It had been on one of those mornings that Kurt had fallen in love with Blaine so completely before he even really knew what love was. If things were different he'd tell Blaine right there in the kitchen how he felt, but things were more unstable now than they had been then. And just because he could pretend didn't mean that his dad wasn't still sick. He longed for the days where the biggest problem in his life was convincing Blaine that they should order Chinese instead of pizza. Maybe one day, he thought. Maybe one day his life would be carefree once again.

* * *

><p>It had been hard convincing Rachel that she didn't need to come with him to the hospital after they'd picked up his car; but he managed to send her back home with a hug and a thank you. He was glad to have her, but the only person he wanted with him right now couldn't be; and there was no way to substitute that.<p>

Kurt walked slowly through the halls of the hospital on his way to his father's room. It was the same journey he'd taken the day before, but he hoped that when he got to his father's door that something would be different. That he'd peek inside and see his father awake and laughing with a nurse. But instead he found his father, still unconscious, and Mrs. Hudson at his side taking notes on his chart. She smiled when she saw Kurt walk through the door.

"How'd you sleep last night, sweetie?" she asked.

"Alright, I suppose," Kurt answered simply. It had been the truth but how to do you tell a stranger, or anyone really, that while part of your life was falling apart, there was another that was putting itself back together again?, "The nurse up front said there hasn't been any change."

"There hasn't," Mrs. Hudson said, "I checked on him as soon as I got here."

"Thank you," he said, "I like knowing he's got someone looking out for him if I'm not here."

"Of course, Kurt," she said with a smile, "I've got to go check on a few more patients, but I'll be back in a little bit. Do you need anything?"

"No thank you," Kurt said as Mrs. Hudson dropped his father's chart at the end of his bed and walked out of the room.

Kurt took a seat next to his father's bed and began looking him over the same way he had the night before, closely examining every bit of him for a sign that everything was going to be alright. Again, he didn't find one. He reached for his father's wrist, holding it between his fingers until he found the pulse tapping weakly against his fingers. It was all the sign he was going to get. His father's heart was still beating, and as long as that kept happening he'd be as close to as alright as he could be.

"Dad, if this was your way of getting Blaine and I to speak to each other again, it worked," Kurt said, "You can wake up now."

His father remained unresponsive.

Kurt then told his father everything that had happened the night before and that morning. Just as he would have had the circumstances been different. He told him about the relief he felt when Blaine's arms wrapped around him, how his heart had finally started beating from that place that was reserved only for Blaine. How Blaine had finally spoken to him like his friend and how he'd hugged him before he left. He thanked his father for everything he'd done to help Blaine and told him how it was a start and that Rachel was wrong, they were still friends, they'd always be friends, and he'd find a way to get everything back. And that meant that he had to wake up.

Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door and Kurt turned expecting to see Mrs. Hudson at the door, and he did, but she was accompanied by another woman not dressed in scrubs but a pantsuit with a folder cradled in her arms.

"Kurt," Mrs. Hudson said, her voice breaking and Kurt eyed both women suspiciously, "This is Ms. Green. She's a social worker for the hospital."

"Kurt," Ms. Green said in a tone that Kurt was immediately uncomfortable with, "There's something I need to speak with you about."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Thanks for reading, lovelies. Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Thank you again for all the love you've given this story! I appreciate it more than you know! I promise to get Chapter 7 to you as soon as possible!


	7. Chapter 7

**AN**: Happy Sunday Everyone! Thank you for the love you've given this story!

Big thank you to my amazing beta, Christine!

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><p><em>Somewhere There's a World…<em>

Kurt took a deep breath, "Any last minute advice?"

He and his father were standing alone in the hotel room where Kurt had gotten dressed, where just a few minutes before Rachel, Santana, and Mercedes had been frantically dashing around making sure that everything was perfect. Because there were only a few minutes left until Kurt walked down the aisle to say "I do" to Blaine, the boy he'd fallen in love with as a teenager and who would become his husband at twenty-five."

"Kurt," his father said, "I don't think you need advice. Not for this part. We've known that this day was inevitable since you were fourteen."

"Blaine and I didn't get together until we were sixteen," Kurt pointed out.

"I know," Burt said laughing. Of course he knew, "But you two were making each other happy a long time before that."

Kurt smiled. His father was right. He and Blaine had been something special from the moment they'd met.

"You want some advice, Kurt? Just keep doing what you've been doing," Burt said, "You two know how to be kind to each other, how to fight with each other, and most of all you know how to love each other completely. And I think that means you've got a leg up on most of the world."

"Thanks, dad," Kurt said leaning up to hug his father, an embrace that he took strength from, that made him a better person, that had made him into the man who was able to love and be loved in return, "I love you."

"I love you too, kid," Burt said, pulling back to look at Kurt with a smile on his face, "Now let's not keep him waiting any longer."

* * *

><p>Sunday morning Kurt woke up to find himself in the same spot he'd woken up in the day before: curled against Blaine's side, his head on his shoulder, and their linked hands resting on Blaine's lap. The only difference was that now they were in Kurt's bed and had both taken the time to change into their pajamas the night before. Kurt tilted his head to look properly at Blaine, who was still asleep, his cheek pressed against the top of Kurt's head. He looked peaceful and Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the comfort of having Blaine so close to him do as much as it could to lessen the anxiety that was building inside of him. Somehow, in a world that already seemed out to get him, there were more punches to be thrown his way. And this last one landed much harder than any of the others.<p>

At the hospital, he'd rushed to the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl as the words that had come out of Ms. Green's mouth sunk in. His entire body understood what she had told him and was hell bent on revolting. Some things hadn't been new information. He'd been told from the beginning that the longer his father stayed in the coma, the less likely he was to wake up. But what he hadn't expected was to learn that his father's condition had been reported to social services, and that when they went to look in his file, they were unable to find any record of the arrangement Kurt knew his father had made. The ones that protected Kurt should something happen to his father, leaving Kurt an orphan. Someone somewhere thought it would be kind to give him a chance to prepare himself should his father not pull through.

It was a long while until Kurt came out of the bathroom, and when he did, Ms. Green was gone. But Mrs. Hudson was waiting for him with a comforting smile that did nothing to calm him. God, he was going to be sick again.

"Kurt," Ms. Hudson said, he voice soft and mother like, "I'm so sorry."

Kurt swallowed everything he was feeling and shook his head, "There has to be some kind of mistake. My father—my father filled out the paperwork, I know he did. We walked about it, made sure that everything was in place after what happened to Blaine…"

Whatever he had left to say went with the wind as his head filled with memories: of the day Blaine's parents died, of the following nights he'd spent by Blaine's side while they waited for the other boy's birthday to come and go, of the day they took Blaine way. All of it came rushing back until it was impossible to breathe and there were tears running down his face. He wanted to go home, he needed to get to Blaine, and then he needed to figure this whole mess out.

He spent another hour by his father's side, begging him to wake up. He didn't believe in God, but he had hope. And if he had that he had everything, right? They'd hoped to be able to find happiness again after his mom died, and they did. They'd had hope that they could bring Blaine home, and they did. So if Kurt had to use up every last bit of hope he had to get his father to wake up, he would. He would hope that he'd see his father's proud look one day when he graduated high school, and then college. He would hope that his father would be there to give sage advice before he walked down the aisle should someone want to marry him one day. He'd hope for every moment that could be their future until there was no hope left.

He was shaking, and probably shouldn't have been driving, by the time he'd made it to Blaine's arms a little while later, grateful when his best friend had wrapped them around him the way he'd longed for for so long. Blaine had always been the first person Kurt would go to when things were bad, and they'd never been worse than they were now. Blaine just held him close as he explained everything.

They'd crawled into Kurt's bed sometime later, after Blaine forced Kurt to eat and after they'd spent an hour or so staring at the television. He'd close his eyes, exhausted from the trauma of the last two days, comfortable next to his best friend, and terrified that he was about to lose his father, and his freedom. The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was Blaine whispering. Kurt wasn't even sure that Blaine knew he was still awake, but he kept repeating the same words over and over, so that only Kurt could hear them.

"_I'm here."_

In the early hours, of the next morning, Blaine shifted beside him and when Kurt opened his eyes again, he was looking right into Blaine's. Still full of sleep, but just as safe as they'd always been. Blaine squeezed their joined hands and Kurt wanted to scream at the irony of it all. He'd somehow managed to get both the thing he wanted most and his worst nightmare in the same week.

"How are you doing?" Blaine asked.

Kurt shrugged. He wanted to tell Blaine the truth: that he was scared, terrified. But he couldn't make the words yet. Admitting that he felt that way made the whole thing more real, and he wasn't ready to accept it yet. Not when he knew that someone had made a terrible error.

"Are you going to see your dad today?" Blaine asked.

"No—I-I need to find those papers, Blaine,' Kurt said sitting up straighter, "I know they exist. I watched him fill them out. After my mom died there was a little while where he didn't have everything figured out, but then we moved here and you and I became friends and I guess your parents had agreed that if anything were to happen to him, I would live with you. And after you—after you left he refiled. My dad has an aunt in Chicago, who has to be ancient, but we don't have a lot of options."

If Mr. and Mrs. Anderson had taken the time out to protect Kurt, why hadn't they taken the time to protect their own son? The question followed Kurt around for more than a year and made him livid.

"Where you do you think they could be?" Blaine questioned.

Kurt shrugged, 'I don't know. The basement? There are boxes of old tax forms and important documents down there. I'll start there."

"I'll help you," Blaine said without hesitation, "We can do it together."

"Really?"

"Of course," Blaine said, "I'm never going to let what happened to me happen to you. I really want your dad to be okay, but if something happened, I've heard of a place…"

The doorbell rang cutting Blaine off.

* * *

><p>Blaine left Kurt in his room while he went to go answer the door. Halfway down the stairs he took a deep breath and reminded himself that, despite everything, he still had to answer the door like he was a slave. Because no matter what Kurt or Burt said, that was what he was. It wasn't until he reached for the doorknob that he realized that anyone could have been on the other side of the door—including an evaluator—and he probably should have changed out of his pajamas. But it was too late to turn back now and a sigh of relief escaped from between his lips when he pulled the door open to not see the stern face of an evaluator, but the concerned face of a short brunette that he recognized from the sleepover and the morning before sectionals. He knew her name was Rachel.<p>

"Oh, hello," she said, "I'm looking for Kurt. Is he home?"

"He's upstairs," Blaine answered before remembering to continue, "Miss. Would you like me to get him for you?"

"That would be great," Rachel said pushing passed Blaine to get into the house, "Is he okay?"

Blaine was shocked that such a question was directed toward him. It wasn't expected for slaves to have such opinions or knowledge. By the time he finally pushed through the shock there was a creak on the stairs behind him and both he and Rachel looked up to see Kurt still in his pajamas, though he looked like he'd run his fingers through his hair in hopes of taming his bedhead. Had he looked that tired when Blaine had left him?

"I'm okay," he said leaning against the railing.

"Well then you could have at least answered one of my texts or phone calls letting me know you got home," Rachel said folding her arms across her chest, "I was worried."

An odd mix of jealousy and relief swirled inside Blaine. For so long, years ago, it had only been him and Kurt. They had other friends, but none of them had been considered close. But he'd been gone and had been distant for so long. He was glad that Kurt had someone who cared about him the way he deserved to be cared about. Though it was a strange feeling to have that care come from someone other than himself.

"I'm sorry Rachel," Kurt said taking the rest of the stairs to stand next to Blaine, "A lot happened last night."

"Your father, is he…?"

Kurt shook his head, "There's been no change."

"Then what happened?" Rachel inquired.

Kurt took a deep breath, "Let's sit down."

While Kurt and Rachel took a seat on the couch and Kurt filled Rachel in on the events of the previous night as well as their plans for the day, Blaine disappeared into the kitchen to make coffee. As he pressed the on button and watched as the dark liquid began to drip into the clear pot, he thought about Kurt.

He had to make sure that Kurt was okay and if he had to singlehandedly tear the house apart to find those papers, he would. And if something did happen to Burt and he had to separate from Kurt again when he left to go live in Chicago, he would. If he had to go back into the system so that Kurt could be safe and happy, he would. But if they didn't find the papers, and something happened to Burt, they'd run. Blaine had heard about places where runaway slaves could hide. Places around the country where they could live the rest of their lives away from the rest of the world, but as free as they could be.

He thought then about Sam, his roommate of sorts during training. They were the same age, but Sam was taller with shaggy blonde hair. Sam's parents had been killed in an accident like Blaine's parents had a few months before Blaine had arrived in the abandoned school that would be his home for the next year. Blaine and Sam had formed a friendship in the little time they had to themselves each day. But a few months before Blaine went up for auction, Sam disappeared. He'd escaped, gone to find the freedom he'd been sure was out there. When Blaine had woken that morning, before anyone had realized that Sam was gone, there was a piece of paper under his pillow. The words "if I find it, I'll be back" were scrawled in pencil and Blaine immediately ripped the note into little pieces and tossed it into the trash just moments before the group of supervisors came into the dull concrete room to start the morning routine.

He had no idea if Sam ever found it, or where he was now. But if it came down to it, he'd take Kurt and they'd find it. Together.

The coffee machine beeped pulling Blaine out of his thoughts. They'd take everything one step at a time. There was nothing Kurt could have done to prevent Blaine from going away, but Blaine would sure as hell try to prevent Kurt from being forced into the life he had now. He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy let alone his best friend.

Blaine filled two mugs and put them on a carrying tray with a bowl of sugar and grabbed the carton of cream from the refrigerator. It was almost empty and he realized that Burt usually did the grocery shipping Saturday afternoon, even though it was something Blaine should do. Blaine walked the tray into the living room where Rachel looked like she'd just finished crying. He put the tray down on the coffee table and looked at the carpet next to Kurt's feet.

"I should go get dressed," Blaine said lamely. He should have gotten dressed before he'd made coffee. He shouldn't have been seen in front of guests the way he was dressed. If Rachel said anything to someone…

"No," Kurt said and Blaine's eyes moved up to meet his, "You don't have to. Stay here?"

After a moment Blaine nodded and took a seat in the chair next to the couch, Burt's chair. He wanted nothing more than for Burt to walk into the room and tease him about sitting there until Blaine got up and Burt sat down with them.

"You didn't want any coffee?" Kurt asked noticing the two mugs.

Blaine shook his head.

"So, where do we start?" Rachel asked.

"Rachel, you don't have to," Kurt started.

"I know. But I want to, Kurt. You're my best friend and if I can help you with this, I'm going to."

Hearing Rachel call Kurt her best friend made the jealousy stir, but the relief stay put, inside Blaine. He fought the urge to tell her that Kurt was _his_ best friend, and he wasn't willing to share, but he knew he'd sound like a spoiled child. He knew that the time they'd spent apart had changed them both, but it wasn't until those words came out of Rachel's mouth that he wondered if it had somehow changed them. If now the unbreakable bond that had held them together had somehow morphed in a way that he hadn't been ready for. Maybe it was no longer Kurt and Blaine against the world. Maybe despite everything they would never really get back what they'd had before.

* * *

><p>They spent most of the day in the basement. The shelves along the wall of the unfinished basement were lined with boxes of stuff that his father either needed to keep, or couldn't bring himself to part with. There were boxes of old pictures, clothes, books. You name it, it was in the Hummel's basement. There was a whole shelving unit dedicated to old tax returns and other important documents, so the copy of Kurt's guardianship papers had to be down there among the dust and the spider webs, right?<p>

Except it wasn't.

By the time Rachel went home for dinner Kurt was tired, hungry, and completely frustrated. They'd gone through dozens of boxes and found everything from his birth certificate to his mother's high school year book (which he put aside for another day); there was nothing that even resembled the guardianship documents he needed. But not all hope was lost. He _knew_ the documents existed. He let Blaine made grilled cheese for dinner and sighed heavily when Blaine sat down next to Kurt on the couch to eat.

"I know you probably don't want to think about this," Blaine said, "But what are you going to do about school tomorrow?"

School. After the last three days, he'd almost forgotten there was a life outside his house and the hospital. The last three days had felt like so much longer, an eternity of one bad thing after another. Well, mostly. The only good thing he'd gotten since Friday was having Blaine at his side again; talking to him, holding his hand. He kept imagining that he'd wake up and this whole thing would be just some vivid nightmare. But that was a double edged sword. What he wanted was to wake up in a world where he had both Blaine and his father.

"Well, if we don't find those papers it's not going to matter."

"Kurt," Blaine said in a tone that Kurt recognized from the million other times Blaine had tried to stop him from going the path of a particularly bad thought.

"No," he sighed, "I know. We're going to find them. I just don't know if I can handle school on top of everything else right now."

"Don't you think it'll be a good distraction?"

Kurt shook his head, "Not when I can't find those papers. Blaine, I know they're around here somewhere."

"And we'll find them, Kurt," Blaine said and could almost hear him forcing the optimism into his words, "I can look while you're not here."

Kurt shook his head and took Blaine's hand, grateful for the millionth time that he didn't pull away, "Thank you, but I can't even think about anything else until they're found."

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand, "Okay."

"Thank you, Blaine," Kurt said, "Thank you for everything."

"I haven't done much but hold your hand and look through boxes."

"But that means everything to me right now, Blaine," Kurt said, "It's what friends do, right? We are friends again?"

He had to ask. They have been acting like friends, but the circumstances they found themselves in were special. Kurt knew that had his father not had a heart attack, then he and Blaine wouldn't be where they were right now. He was scared that when this was all over, Blaine would sink back into the shadows.

"Yes," Blaine said, "Always."

Kurt took a deep breath in, the pressure building in his chest and behind his eyes, "I'm scared," he whispered, "I've never been so scared of anything in my life."

* * *

><p>Blaine knew that there weren't words that could be said to really calm the fear that Kurt was feeling—that he'd felt himself. This wasn't a fear of the monster underneath the bed or that you'll wake up with a zit on your nose. No, this was the fear made your skin crawl and your heart palpitate; made your knees weak and sent your mind reeling; made the hairs on the back of your neck stir and the knot in your throat threaten to choke you. This wasn't kid stuff even though they were both very much still children.<p>

"I never realized how brave you were. How brave you still are," Kurt said startling Blaine, "I should have. You've always been one of the strongest people in my life. You are my rock, Blaine. You are the reason I haven't completely fallen apart yet. You were able to face the death of your entire family and being taken away from everything and everyone you've ever known with so much courage. But me? I'm faced with the possibility of it and I feel like shutting down. I feel like running away until no one can find me. You didn't do that."

Blaine won't tell Kurt about his plans until they're needed. Until the only other option is to run out of the door with little more than the clothes on their back. But he can tell Kurt about what he'd been feeling in those weeks between the death of his parents and Cooper and the day he left, "Because I wasn't going to leave you."

The tears were falling steadily from Kurt's eyes, the fear swirling behind the tears, "Thank you," he said, "For not leaving me now."

It had been so long since Blaine had cried. He'd been taught that tears were worthless. That crying only made him look worthless and that no one wanted a crying slave. Bad things happened to crying slaves. But it was something he could do now. His heart broke over and over for Kurt, and for Burt, and for his family and for the first time since he stepped off that bus in the parking lot of the abandoned school, Blaine cried. Because Kurt would never see him as worthless and sitting next to him, Blaine was free to feel the way he hadn't in so long.

"I'm never going to let anything that happened to me happen to you," Blaine promised. It didn't matter what happened, it was a promise he was going to keep.

* * *

><p>Monday morning Blaine was in his room getting dressed for the day when Kurt shouted his name from down the hall. He hadn't even known that Kurt was awake, but he quickly tugged his shirt over his head and hurried from his room and into Kurt's; but Kurt wasn't there. Another shout of his name and Blaine was in Burt's bedroom where he found Kurt sitting on the bed surrounded by boxes.<p>

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked worriedly as he entered the room.

"I found more boxes," Kurt said taking the lid off the one beside him and beginning to examine its contents, "Some of this stuff looks important. Will you help me look?"

"Of course," Blaine said going to the front of the bed and picking a box up off the floor—it was heavy. Putting it down on the corner of the bed, Blaine lifted the lid. But what he found weren't any kind of document, but dozens of songbooks ranging from classic Broadway to the best pop hits of 2007. He wouldn't have thought anything about it, he knew Kurt had a whole collection for songbooks of his own, but then he noticed the "BA" in the top right hand corner written in black permanent marker, and his heart stopped.

"Kurt," he said lifting the book from the top of the pile, _The Big Book of Broadway._

"What did you-"Kurt said looking up from the box he was looking through, "Oh."

"This is—are these—these are mine?"

"Yes," Kurt said, "Remember that I told you we went over to the house across the street and got all of your things? It wasn't just your clothes. We got everything we could stick into a few boxes and brought them over here. I thought they were in the basement, but my dad must have moved them up here when you came home. There's an entire box somewhere with your books and CDs. They were going to throw most of it away so we just went and took it."

Blaine eyed the book and then put it down and looked around the room. There were so many boxes and if only some of them had a fraction of what was once his…

"Why?" he asked, looking at Kurt.

Kurt slid off the bed and stood next to Blaine, his hand coming to rest on his shoulder, "Because the day before, my dad and I decided that we were going to bring you home. No matter what. And then we thought that you should have everything when you got here."

Blaine let out a sharp exhale, he couldn't believe this. There were things from his life before—old Blaine's life—that he'd never be able to get back: his mother, his father, Cooper, freedom—real freedom. But there were parts of that life stored in boxed down the hall and he hadn't even realized it. These were parts of his life that Kurt was offering to give back to him. He hadn't even realized he was crying until Kurt reached up with a single finger and wiped away a tear as it rolled down his cheek.

"We weren't going to leave you," Kurt whispered and Blaine didn't have to look into his blue eyes to know that the tears were running down his cheek as well, "We love you, Blaine."

And on instinct he turned and wrapped his arms around Kurt and nothing felt better than the feeling of Kurt holding him close, protected, the same way Blaine had been holding him the last few days.

Love. Blaine couldn't remember the last time he heard that word, let alone felt it. But what he was feeling wrapped in Kurt's arms, fully understanding for the first time in over a year that he wasn't alone in the world, it felt familiar and a lot like it. He knew that he loved his parents and Cooper; he loved Burt in a way he didn't know how to explain since he was neither friend nor father; he loved Kurt, completely. For as long as he could remember Kurt's presence alone could make his heart race and make him feel like he was soaring through the clouds. Kurt made him feel safe. Kurt made him feel loved.

"We should keep looking," Blaine said pulling away, wiping his face to rid it of the tears that were drying on his cheeks. He couldn't say it then, but he needed to show Kurt how loved he was in return. And the only way he knew how was to make sure that Kurt was safe.

"Are you sure, Blaine?" Kurt asked, "We can take a break."

Blaine sniffled and shook his head, "No. There aren't that many boxes here. If we split them up we'll be through them all in no time."

And it didn't. They didn't speak much, just an update after each box that they hadn't found anything. When by the time they reached the last box, Blaine was convinced that they wouldn't find it—not amongst these boxes at least. Kurt took off the lid then began sifting through the papers inside. He was half way through the box when he stopped.

"I think this is it," he said lifting several pieces of paper that had been folded into thirds.

Kurt unfolded the stack and Blaine watched his eyes scan the page for the magic words. When Kurt finally looked up, eyes filled once again with tears, Blaine gave him a questioning look. Kurt nodded, the tiniest curl of his lips made Blaine's heart beat normally again before he reached out and pulled Kurt to him. They were still faced with so much uncertainty, but they'd found what they needed to ensure Kurt's safety and, at the moment, that was all that mattered to Blaine.

Kurt would always be safe. Now they just had to wait for Burt to wake up.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Thanks for reading, lovelies. Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Thank you again for all the love you've given this story! I appreciate it SO much. I promise to get Chapter 8 to you as soon as possible!


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